The Smell of Calla Lillies
by thecodeinequeen
Summary: Originally posted on AO3! Beckabeth Elizabeth Swann is just hours away from the wedding that she has begun to regret. She knows that the situation cannot be remedied and resigns herself to what she feels are the consequences solely of her rash actions. With morale low, she awaits her life long sentence in the warm Jamaican rain. Until fate intervenes. UNEDITED
1. The Beginning of the End

It was meant to be a day of complete happiness. A day which was dreamed about for years an advance. A day full of love and laughter. But for Elizabeth Swann it was a day which signified the beginning of the end. The end of what little freedom she had. It was her dreams shattered. There would be no chance of another adventure. No more days spent on the sea, with the pirate Jack Sparrow. She had never even had to chance to weild a sword against an enemy. All of the excitement that she had felt for the past year seemed that it would be the last she experienced. By that rainy afternoon she would have signed her prison sentence and would be subject to the boring life of a blacksmiths wife, with an abundence of children that she did not care to have screaming all around her as her husband complained about his hard days work.

Why had she even said that she loved William? Elizabeth asked herself that question over and over were a few explanations that she had given to herself for being so careless with her feelings. That she was young and frivilous; at sixteen of course she said that! And yet, she was only now seventeen and there she sat knowing that it was all a mistake. Perhaps it was that she did love him. He was a very good friend and always had been, but at the time she hadn't duduced that loving someone did not mean that one was in love. William had been so heroic at the time and it struck a cord in her immature heart. The decision was too hasty and if not in the moment she would have never mentioned feelings for him; she might be marrying James Norrington instead. In recent days she begun to think the commodore would have been a better match. At least he was an adventurer of sorts and had plenty of stories to tell. But now he was gone too, resigned and missing. Elizabeth felt guilty for his decent and wondered often what had become of him in the months since his defeat. However, all of these revelations were made far too late and now she sat alone in her chambers wearing a dreadfully ichy dress as she contemplated the ramifications of making a run for it. It was only the knowledge of the pain and suffering that it would bring to her father which stopped her from doing so.

Elizabeth let a sharp breath pass through her parted lips.

A surprisingly cool breeze danced through her quiet chambers, let in by the balcony doors that were left open for air. The fresh air calmed her nerves. It also brought with it the smell of flowers; Calla Lillies to be specific. An ornate vase held the purple flowers on the mahogany side table next to the balcony. Elizabeth focused her eyes on the flowers, jarring her from her taxing thoughts. She stood and glided over to investigate. A small folded parshment paper was placed just beneath the edge of the vase, keeping it from fluttering away in the wind. Her long nimble fingers retrieved the note and tore it out of it's small cream colored envelope.

Written on the parchment, in very good handwriting was as follows:

 _Best wishes,_  
 _Lord Cutler Beckett_  
 _East India Trading Company_

Elizabeth's brow furrowed in interest. 'Cutler Beckett...' she murmured to herself.

The name rung no bells to her. Most of the flowers she had received were from guests who had been invited to the wedding, though she knew it could have been one of her fathers additions to the guest list. It was odd, in her opinion, that this man decided to send Calla Lillies. It seemed a tad ambiguous, to choose the poisonous purple flowers for a wedding. Elizabeth dismissed the curious thought; just because she was miserable didn't mean everyone else was. For a moment she eyed the purple petals in morbid thought. What part of the plant was poisonous? And how poisonous was it? She took one of the velvety petals between her fingers and let her mind wonder on the possibilities. Perhaps a small dose would make her ill enough to miss the wedding... Or might it bring death? Would death be so horrible in the face of all that she wanted in life being thrown to the wind? Her father would be distraught, but at least he would know where she was, eight feet under the earth, unlike if she were to run away with pirates.

Elizabeth pulled one of the petals from the flower and held it to her parted lips. She breathed in it's faint scent.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. 'Miss Swann we really must be leaving now if we are to make it on time.' Said her maid, Henrietta, from the other side of the wooden door.

Elizabeth let the petal fall from her fingers with a sigh.

It was all humiliating. After two hours of being reassured by her father that William was only running a little late, Elizabeth knew she had been the one left at the alter. She sat in the cold rain while all of her guests had taken cover under the chapels promenade. It was better this way, so that she did not have to hear their whisperings of speculations and rumors to one another. Never had Elizabeth had such conflicting emotions over a situation; she was both so joyous and yet very cross. Joyous, for the wedding had not yet happened and perhaps this blunder could be remedied by that fact. For now she was free to back out of the engagement and not a soul would blame her if she did! Yet she was cross that she, the party in this matter who did not want to be married, was the one left to be gossiped about. It was she who had to suffer such a shame, not William. And it was she who was having her ego battered. It should have been the other way round, but it hadn't been because she was too kind to break his heart! Elizabeth regretted more than anything that she hadn't denied that they should marry. But she felt bitterly that this was her penance. She had abandoned and lied to James, led Jack on, and made William think that there was more love for him in her heart than there really was. Now she would pay for it all. It was a difficult admission to make for one with as much pride as Elizabeth.

The croud of wedding attendees suddenly gasps and the whispers grew louder. The group parted, making way for armed soldiers and in their grasps, a shackled William.

Elizabeth abandoned all thoughts and lurched to her feet, picking up her skirts heavy from the weight of water. In the matter of seconds she was face to face with her husband to be. 'Will,' she uttered as she approached. 'Will why is this happening?' It was meant to be spat at him in the upmost disapproval for his arrival and his abandonment of her. But she was terrified that she might be the next to be arrested if it had anything to do with Jacks escape.

'I don't know,' he said firmly. 'You look beauti-'

'Make way let me through.' These words cut William's sentiment short. It was the appauled voice of Weatherby Swann as he unapologetically pushed through the croud of wedding guests. 'How dare you! Stand your men down at once! Do you hear me?' The commands were directed at the only figure facing away from the scene.

The man turned. He wasn't one that Elizabeth recognized from Port Royal or Kingston. She deduced that he was very wealthy based on his clothing choice and the white wig that topped his head. His cloak came off and he handed it to a waiting guard. 'Govenor Weatherby Swann it's been too long,' came the mans aristocratic drawl.

'Cutler Beckett?' Weatherby knew this man.

'It's Lord now, actually,' Lord Cutler Beckett corrected arrogantly.

 _'The Calla Lilies!'_ Elizabeth's mind sounded off. _'They were from Lord Cutler Beckett.'_

The two guards stopping Weatherby from attending to his daughter now let him through. 'Lord or not,' he put a reassuring hand onto Elizabeth's shoulder as to comfort her. 'You have no reason and no authority to arrest this man!'

'In fact I do,' retorted Lord Beckett in a matter-of-factly tone. 'Mister Mercer,' he called nonchalantly and was immediatly supplied a leather envelope containing several documents by an angry looking man who must have been Mister Mercer. 'The warrent for the arrest of one William Turner,' he handed over the document to Weatherby with a hint of haughtiness.

Weatherby sighed in defeat as he took the warrant. But defeated turned into confusion and concern. 'This warrant is for Elizabeth Swann,' his voice cracked under the pressure of the situation.

Elizabeths heart sank. It was as she feared.

'Oh is it? That's annoying, my mistake,' Lord Beckett said as if it weren't a pressing matter as he glanced at the warrant. It hardly seemed like a mistake, rather a cruel jest. 'Arrest her.'

'On what charges?' Elizabeth blurted out as she weakly struggled against the guards that were quick to put her in heavy iron shackles. Her heart was beating fast. It was surely for her small part in Jack Sparrows escape. Abetting a pirate, a law that she knew well was punished swiftly at the gallows. She felt that she may faint.

' _Aha_ , here's the one for William Turner-' Lord Beckett waved the document light heartedly, before handing it over to Weatherby- 'And I have another one for a Mister James Norrington.' He held this one up in the air with one hand while the other one rested cooly on his hip. It was as if he were handing out invitations rather than death sentences. 'Is he present?'

'What are the charges?' Elizabeth bellowed again, this time a little more demanding as she thrashed against the two guards still working to secure her. The iron shackles scraped at her boney wrists as she struggled.

'Commodore Norrington resigned his comission some months ago,' Weatherby informed solemnly, as he read over and over again his daughters warrant in disbelief.

'I don't believe that was the answer to the question that I asked,' Lord Beckett sneered.

'Lord Beckett,' William finally spoke after remaining silent through the ordeal, 'in the category of questions not answered-'

Elizabeth cut his words short, not willing to rely on any arguement of Williams. '-we are under the jurisdiction of the Kings Govenor of Port Royal. And you _will_ tell us what we are charged with.' Her words were much sharper now as the spitfire and stubborness that she was born with came back to her with the fading shock.

'The charge,' Weatherby read outloud from the warrant, 'is conspiring to set free a man convicted of crimes against the crown and empire, and condemned to death,' it seemed that the aging man was losing his breath with every word spoken, 'for which the-' Weatherby couldn't bring himself to speak the words that he read.

'-for which the punishment, regrettably, is also death.' Lord Beckett finished for the distraught father.

No one spoke. Elizabeth felt that she could vomit at any moment. It wasn't for herself that she faced this distress, but for her father who would have to look forward to her execution if she could not wiggle her way out of it. She realized now how horrible it would be for him. He would be left alone in their manor and it pained her deeply to think of him in such a state. It could not happen. No matter what she had to do, it was not going to happen.

'Perhaps you remember a certain pirate name Jack Sparrow-'

'-captain' both Elizabeth and William corrected with a small glance at one another. Only Elizabeth continued. ' _Captain_ Jack Sparrow.'

'Captain Jack Sparrow,' was Lord Becketts calculating responce. 'Yes I thought you might.'

WRITERS NOTE

Hello party people. This is the first fanfiction I have ever written and I think I'm writing for one of the least popular ships in the POTC fandom. I think. I for one can't find hardly any fanfictions for Beckabeth. The very few I do find, most are really good, but then the rest start out so well and then the author leaves them in chapter three. Or it starts out sort of Beckabeth and then after hours of reading what I think is a slow burn surely working up to sexual nonsense, it turns out to be Beckabeth friendship land and I did not sign up for all that. Anyways, if you are more of a Willabeth or whatever Jack/Liz is, you might not be into this. I just like a baddie. Who doesn't? Oh and this is so late in terms of this ship, but Sky just added all of the POTC movies and it brought be back. ANYWAYS. I blab way too much even when I'm only typing. The title might change, I don't know, my name is Calla so it just kind of popped in my head. This will maybe probably be a slow burn. Real slow. There could be quite a lot of plot as I am going to try to stick with the original plot. Honestly though I have no idea where this is going, but I promise I will write it to the end so if you stay along for the ride you'll love it or maybe you'll think it's total shit so win win or lose lose who knows. Also this is basically being written in the dead of night and probably will contain grammar errors and a few mistakes. I will fix as I notice.


	2. Darkness Falls

Elizabeth stiffened and clutched her abdomen as a deep groan surfaced from her. She closed her eyes against the sudden wave of vertigo that was becoming more frequent in the recent days past. Her body screamed for nourishment, anything to pacify her ravenous hunger and fill the cavity that was her stomach. It demanded her attention every waking minute and sent her body reeling when denied. Elizabeth steadied herself using the iron bars that held her to the wretched prison. The hellish place which afforded no creature comforts. For far too long she was left starving, tired, and dirty in the grimy prison cell. She felt that she might have easily starved if not for her doting fathers bread which he smuggled past the guard when he could. There wasn't even a place to sleep, save for a thin wooden bench which was hardly suitable for sitting. Her suffering would end soon enough.

It had been near a fortnight since the doomed wedding, one week since William had informed Elizabeth that he was going to seek out Jack Sparrow and his compass in Tortuga. She surmised that Lord Beckett wanted the compass for the only thing it lead to; the cursed Aztec gold of Isla de Muerta. Who wouldn't want the riches of it's golden cavern's? And so now she had leverage against the cruel Lord. Elizabeth planned to tell him what she has seen of it, thus saving him from the fate far worse than death. Perhaps then she could reap her rewards in the sum of a letter of marque, saving herself. If she could, she would save the others too, but they were far from priority. Elizabeth found it difficult to feel guilt over this; she could only think of her father. She knew that Lord Beckett had promised both she and Will's freedom, but intuition told her not to put faith in this. Will was easily lead and easily lied to; Lord Beckett might have spotted this fault in him. And then there were the daunting signs of her deteriorating health; there was a chance that she might not be alive by the time Will came back. The only way she would feel secure was to take the matter into her own capable hands.

As per the plan which she had given thought for the past three nights, she would ask to speak to him when twilight fell unto Port Royal that night. That way if escape was necessary the town would be void of watchful eyes and ripe with dark corners to hide in. If escape was not warranted and she only sent back to her cell, well then it was an opportunity to charm or thieve her way into food and drink. It seemed worth the risk no matter how she looked at it. For the past two hours she had been watching and listening for Port Royal to quiet as the town retired to their homes. The time had come.

There was a guard donned in the red and white uniform, same as all the rest. She recognized him; he had been apart of James' crew that had come to her rescue. He sat not far from her cell every night from dusk to the early hours of the morning. Elizabeth did not know his name as he never cared to entertain her by conversation, but tonight she had to try. As per his usual routine, he sat upon an old wooden chair, leaned back far with only it's hind legs on the dirt floor with his nose in a book.

'Sir,' Elizabeth said in the most honeyed tone she could muster. 'Might I be so fortunate as to be told your name?' There was no answer, but the guard briefly glanced her way before turning his attentions back to his book. 'It is only that it seems we occupy so much of each others time, and yet we have not made each others acquaintance. My name is Elizabeth.'

The guard shifted uncomfortably in his chair. 'I am not to speak to you, 'mam. Strict orders.' He looked conflicted about his words. 'But-' he put the blue book onto his lap- 'if you must know, it's Private Murtogg.'

'It is a pleasure to meet you, Private Murtogg,' Elizabeth curtsied, a habit she felt would never be broken, no matter how long she was absent from polite society. 'And so now if ever we lack in amusement, as this place seems so easily prone to, we might speak. I promise I won't tell on you.'

Private Murtogg let a smile cross his boyish face.

'I do feel so sorry that you have been assigned to watch over me. How tedious a task,' she said, feeling confident that her charms had swayed her newest acquaintance. 'Not long ago, to my knowledge, a dog was kept here to spare soldiers from such uneventful work.'

'Yes, it's been a fortnight since it went missing,' Private Murtogg informed, letting his chair fall back into it's natural position on all four legs. 'Took the keys and two prisoners with him.' He stood and stretched with a sigh. 'You might know their names, from what I remember they were on the crew of the ship you were taken on this year last. Pintel and Ragetti, I think.'

Elizabeth did remember those two particular pirates; the blubbering idiots who chased her through her mansion and assisted in her capture by the now dead Captain Barbossa. She hadn't liked Pintel as much as she had liked Ragetti. They both seemed harmless, though. If only she had been arrested days before, then perhaps she could have made a hasty escape.

'Yes,' she nodded. This was her opportunity. 'Arrested at Isla de Muerta. I believe you were there as well. How gallant of you, to fight against such ghastly creatures.'

'Not as brave as you, milady,' he said with a smile.

Elizabeth smiled back and pushed a strand of hair away from her face absentmindedly. 'I don't feel so brave now,' she pushed herself from the iron bars and sat on the wooden bench. 'I'm scared. Worse, I feel secure in the hope that if I were to speak to Lord Beckett, I might be let free. Yet I am not allowed, despite the knowledge I possess that would be most useful to him.' She focused her sorrowful brown eyes on the soldier and hoped that she looked pitiful enough. 'And so I must await my death, unknowing when it may come. And it is not my death that I fear, but that my hapless father would be left on his own.'

'Might I inform Lord Beckett of your need to speak with him?' Private Murtogg offered with no hesitation. His brow was worried out of concern for her.

'Oh no, I couldn't trouble you so, sir,' a response spoke in such a way to elude him of her scheming.

Private Murtogg shook his head and smiled. 'No trouble at all, I could do for a stroll to the offices anyhow. Sitting for such lengthy times isn't good for one.'

'Thank you,' Elizabeth gushed. 'I will repay your kindness as soon as I am able.'

With a short nod from Private Murtogg, Elizabeth was left alone. Alone once more with only her thoughts to attend to. Anxiety brought her teeth onto her soft inner cheek as she worried at the odds of freedom.

The young woman wished to be no longer plagued with torment. No more expectations or regulations. No more taxing guilt about her choices. To be let out of the dark humid cell and her engagement to Will sundered, so that she may return to happy life with her father, as they had lived before. Where she would make decisions for her future, this time after long calculated thought to avoid further unpleasantry. Though Elizabeth was well aware of her part in any misfortune which she was made to suffer in life. It had all begun with that bloody necklace. If she had not been a thief, if she had simply left it with Will, she would have certainly avoided the imprisonment that tortured her at that moment. The cursed gold would have never called to Barbossa and his heathens, leaving Port Royal unharmed. She wouldn't have been taken. Neither Will nor James would have had to save her and so she wouldn't have admitted any feelings to Will and could have spared James the hurt. And she wouldn't have felt so compelled to assist in Jack's escape, who would have avoided capture if not for her in the first place. The only good that had come of it all was the adventure, which she earned to taste once more. Quite selfishly she would make all the same mistakes once more only to experience it again.

Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably on the hard bench and winced as an acute pain whipped through her frame, curtesy of her stiff back. With a slow breath of air, she tried to soothe the pained which held her whole body in a vice. It seemed that there wasn't a single part of her spared of pain. She thought of all she wouldn't give for a bath, warm meal, and suitable sleeping accommodations. The list wasn't very long. A hard bargain would have to be made to earn any one of these things, that is, if her information wasn't swaying enough and she were sent back to her cell.

Footsteps signaled the return of Private Murtogg, who was looking rather proud of himself. 'Miss Elizabeth, Lord Beckett will speak to you now. Come with me.'


	3. Twilight

The golden glow of clustered lit candles cast their light through the ornate glass panels of a wooden door and onto Elizabeth's dewy skin. A door which lead to a meeting of most importance, a fact echoed by the rumblings of her desperate stomach. A meeting that could put the seal of approval on her execution or save her skin. Every word had to be spoken with purpose and gain. The negotiation had to fall in her favour. Though it seemed that all of her meticulous planning escaped her. The clever and carefully thought out retorts and debates were simply gone from her mind. She had planned on storming in, fierce and perfectly apt for skilful parley. But now she was at a loss of words.

Elizabeth's nerves had never been so on edge. With more difficulty than usual, she swallowed, a cool click coming from her dry throat. Her body was on fire and her breathing was shallow; she felt that something was wrong, as though she wasn't breathing enough. She took a deep breath in. And another. It was seemingly helpless. A boney hand, her hand, which shook in fear, went to her brow to wipe away a bead of sweat.

'You'll be fine, Miss Elizabeth,' Private Murtogg murmured with a nod. He reached a hand out to knock upon the door, but hesitated. His brow furrowed and he sighed. 'Here,' he pulled a pistol from his side and showed it to her. 'Put it in your pocket-' he put it there for her despite his instructions- 'Don't use it if you can keep from it. This place is surrounded by guards far for faithful to Lord Beckett than I. If you fire, they will be alerted immediately and you would be dead in a matter of seconds.'

'Thank you,' Elizabeth said. The weight of the pistol in her pocket tugged at her waist. It felt comforting. No longer was she the defenseless damsel that she so often found herself being.

With that, Private Murtogg rapped his knuckles against the wooden door.

'Enter,' was the unreadable voice of Lord Beckett that answered this knock.

Private Murtogg twisted the golden doorknob and let the door swing open. He gestured for Elizabeth to enter first.

The smell of a hot meal first hit her and sent her mouth watery for the first time in weeks. Her stomach growled angrily. She sighed and tried to ignore it's pleas. Elizabeth surveyed her surroundings. It was a large warm room, with lots of open windows that were rendered useless with the late hour. Instead the room was lit by three chandeliers, one large in the centre of the room, and two opposite sides of it. A large map was on one wall, which she wished to study more. There was also a large desk, a red chaise lounge beside the fireplace, and in the centre a table which held all the delicious food she was smelling.

'Aha, Miss Swann,' Lord Beckett said in a sarcastically mirthful tone. 'Enjoying your stay, I trust?' He stood from the red velvet chair at the large desk. He waved a hand at Private Murtogg to leave, and he did, closing the door behind him. 'The food, the bed, all up to a ladies standards?'

Elizabeth squinted at him in the upmost distaste. Already she had to fight the urge not to curse him. But she quashed the desire and gave a tight lipped smile. 'I'm certain that you know the prison conditions are terrible, my lord.'

'Pity, I even picked the best cell just for you,' he said as he poured himself a glass of something red. After he downed what was surely alcohol in an alarmingly quick amount of time, he pointed at the table of food. 'Might I make it up to you?'

' _YES, YES YOU MAY_ ,' her mind screamed. Elizabeth squared her shoulders and tilted her head upwards. She didn't want him to know how desperate she was. She had to remain in control of the situation. She wanted the food, she didn't need the food. That's what she told herself. 'I suppose you might,' was her tepid response.

Lord Beckett languidly made his way around the desk and towards the table of food. He pulled out one of the two chairs and motioned for her to sit. Elizabeth had to keep herself from skipping to the table; she slowly approached the chair. As she passed Lord Beckett, she glanced into his icy blue eyes. ' _He is handsome_ ,' she thought, still looking at him. It was for a second too long. Her cheeks went an angry shade of scarlet. She sat quickly and nervously adjusted her skirts.

'You may eat whatever you like,' he informed as he took the chair opposite of her.

'Thank you,' was all she murmured.

For several moments, Elizabeth picked at a few slices of pork on the plate before her. It looked delicious. But despite her groaning stomach, which begged for her to fill its aching void, she couldn't yet bring herself to eat. Lord Beckett was shamelessly watching her, causing her skin to feel hot and prickly. The unceasing gaze felt as though it burnt holes in her skin and it caused her the upmost discomfort. She took refuge behind her long dark lashes. Only once he turned his attention to his food did she finally feel like she could too. It didn't take her long to devour the sliced pork; she had attempted to eat it in the most ladylike manner possible, but still felt certain that she had ate like a man. There were baked cinnamon apples and sweet rolls, of both she shoveled down copious amounts. To finish it all off she drank a large glass of warm mulled wine. Elizabeth couldn't even say if it had all tasted well, for her taste buds had been out of commission for so long that they didn't care to yet do their job. It could have been a foul poison that she ate and would have still been just as satisfied. She was left waiting for Lord Beckett to finish his meal and felt little chagrin for the amount of food she ate in such little time.

' _If not for him I wouldn't have been starved in the first place_ ,' her mind said bitterly.

'So-' Lord Beckett sipped on his wine and stood from the table. He motioned for her to follow and moved to sit on the chaise lounge by the fireplace.- 'what is it that you so desperately needed to tell me?'

Elizabeth stepped slowly over to the area between the large fireplace and the chaise. Lord Beckett tapped on the spot next to him. It was too close, too intimate. Or perhaps just intimate enough. Her mind started working towards a reply. She could not divulge the information she knew at him so quickly, she knew. Not if she wanted to be granted the rewards that she sought out. Cunning and charming, as she usually was when she wanted something from a man. This setting was just right. Elizabeth sat beside him. 'There are a few matters which I would like to discuss with you,' her voice was low. The tips of her fingers trailed across the soft velvet of the chaise and onto the smooth silk of his trousers. Her index finger traced circles on his thigh. 'If you might be so gracious to afford me the pleasure of doing so.'

Elizabeth brought her body closer to his and ran her hand along the length of his leg, knee up. For just a moment, she felt her eyelids falling heavy as she tried to use her doe like brown eyes to seduce him. The faint smell of alcohol and tobacco on him intoxicated her. There had been a time when she enjoyed flirting with men, but since the disastrous consequences of the last three, she had been put off of the nonsense of it all. But now she had been away from it for so long, and for two weeks she had been subjected to such a dull time, that she felt she might have been falling for her attempts more than Lord Beckett was.

'I'm so weary of my imprisonment. All I want is to be free, for my fathers sake,' Elizabeth sighed. 'I would do anything to earn it.' She moved her hand up his thigh, the palm of her hand dangerously close to his groin, while her fingers rested just over it. 'Absolutely anything.'

Lord Beckett sighed, much to Elizabeth's satisfaction. It was the only sign that the statue like man might have enjoyed her actions. He was so stony that it frightened her.

'And what of your fiancé, Mister Turner?' Lord Beckett wondered.

Elizabeth looked away. She was ashamed that she didn't feel guilty.

'Ah,' he mused, a smile only just at the corner of his mouth. 'Did I do you a service by interrupting the happy wedding? How cruel, Miss Swann. While he's working to save his damsel in distress, she sought out the company of another.'

'It's none of your business,' she whispered. There was not enough fury, if any, as she wanted there to be, for him to cease his assault on the validity of her relationship. With it she exposed her true feelings on the matter.

'Oh but it is,' Lord Beckett assured her. 'A promised woman has her hand on my cock like some common whore. Is it not my business?'

Elizabeth's jaw tensed. She couldn't let the situation spiral out of control. It had to be remedied.

'I've felt so lonely in my cell,' she went on in a purr, choosing to leave his words left unanswered, and moved her palm over his now rock solid manhood. She simpered, pleased with herself. 'Besides, he won't touch me. Not in the way that I would like. Not in the way you could.'

Victory seemed so close, but suddenly Lord Beckett gripped her wrist in a painful vice. Elizabeth gasped. He sat his now empty wine glass on the wooden side table. Still holding her wrist, he harshly pulled her closer. 'I don't have time for your games,' he hissed through gritted teeth. 'I won't be as easily mislead as your imbecile fiancé.'

Elizabeth's mind reeled for cunning ways to lead him back into false security. 'No, you misjudge me, my lord,' her breathing quickened as she struggled against him. 'I feel my relationship to William sundered. I mean not to offend. As a woman there aren't many ways I might negotiate-' she gripped onto his waistcoat- 'I'll do anything to appease you, anything you ask for.'

'The condition of this visit was the exchange of information and yet all you have produced is your wanton desires,' Lord Beckett drew her up with him off of the chaise lounge. 'I think it is time you returned to your cell.'

The chance to be free was quickly diminishing. 'No, my lord, I know about the compass,' Elizabeth informed. 'I know what it's used for.'

'Fantastic,' he rolled his eyes. 'Now, the hour is late, come.'

That was it. Elizabeth had failed to lure him into an agreement. 'No, I-'

'Another word and I'll have you executed tomorrow, Miss Swann.'

Lord Beckett strode across the room to his desk. He reached into a drawer and sat shackles onto the desk top. With his left hand raised, he crooked his index and middle finger, wordlessly calling her over. Elizabeth shook her head. She would milk this opportunity still. Once more he rounded the desk and approached her, now accompanied by the shackles which he swung from a finger. Perhaps she still had a chance; if not up for her so called games, then why would he attempt to restrain her? Why not call one of the many guards waiting just outside of the walls? Elizabeth tilted her head up. Her confidence was returning. Lord Beckett had made a mistake by showing her that she was still very much in control.

'Do you mean to shackle me, my lord?' Elizabeth questioned light heartedly.

'What are you here for, Miss Swann?'

'I require a royal pardon for myself.'

'And my payment for that pardon?'

'I presume that you already know what I'm willing to give,' she said coolly.

A sound of acknowledgement came from the back of Lord Beckett's throat. He turned effortlessly on the heel of his shiny black boot and retired to the chaise lounge once more. His emotionless eyes shamelessly wondered her body. Even sitting, he had an apt for seeming as though he was looking down onto one.

'Your dress,' he gestured towards her lazily, 'remove it.'

Elizabeth's cheeks went scarlet at the command. Her knowledge on sex wasn't vast; she had only discussed it a few times with her chambermaid, Henrietta. From what she gathered, the man would assist with the state of undress. . . That it was supposed to be something that was built up to. She worried her brow at the prospect of stripping bare in the middle of Lord Beckett's office. There were many windows and many doors. Alas, she had far better matters to worry herself over. With her chin raised, she pulled at the ribbons on the back of her gown. It wasn't long before her bodice fell to the floor. Next was her skirt- the gun. _'Damn it!'_ Elizabeth breathed a short breath through parted lips. The only choice was honesty. She pulled the pistol out with a tight smile and waved it in the air before handing it to him. He hadn't flinched as most people would have; she knew that he must have known about it earlier. He tossed it carelessly onto the floor with a thud. Next her skirt came down, leaving her in the cream colored stays and shift; she had lost her silk stockings days before that, in the heat of her cell they were the first to go.

Lord Beckett's eyes widened, just for a second, yet he remained tepid. He exhaled a sharp breath that was so nearly a laugh and let his eyes take another visual stroll. Elizabeth reveled in his intimate gaze.

'Come here,' he whispered.

Hesitation suddenly gripped her. All at once she was terrified into panic and yet her desires were insatiable. Despite the truth that it was she who put this scene into motion, it was only then that she realized it could really happen. She was in a trice made acutely aware of heightened sexual tension. She noticed how hot her dewy skin was, burning in anticipation. The way it felt stretched over her delicate clavicle and her breasts, heaving in the corset that pushed them upward. Her hair was messy and her lips red, chewed with worry. Elizabeth for the first time felt that she may look sultry and irresistible. There was something in her that told her she should feel ashamed, but she couldn't. She was about to lay with a man who she lacked any knowledge of, save for that he imprisoned her. Somehow that made it all the more thrilling. It was rousing to know that she was completely defying everything that society taught her. It was dirty and adventurous. Liberating even.

With a surge of confidence, Elizabeth stepped towards Lord Beckett. She put one foot onto the velvet chaise, next to his thigh. If not for her shift, which slid towards the apex of her thighs, he would have had quite the view.

Lord Beckett was as unreadable as ever. He put a hand on her thigh before rising to her height. The move brought the two bodies close, but Elizabeth did not back away. He brought his fingers to his neck and deftly did away with his cravat. Next was his waistcoat. As he separated the buttons, Elizabeth watched avidly, putting away every detail of what he was doing to her memory. It was all so intense. Within seconds the silk waistcoat was on the floor. Elizabeth tugged at his lawn shirt, pulling it from his trousers and over his head. Her throat clicked, dry from the little nerves that were left. She looked down as she couldn't handle the intensity. Lord Beckett grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. It was sudden, they were amidst a frenzied kiss, with teeth clashing and tongues wrestling as each tried to out do the other. Elizabeth moaned as he moved the assault onto her neck, sending shocks through her body, to her core where a dull hum was building.

'Fuck me, my lord,' Elizabeth whispered into his ear. She had such conflicting feelings of her behavior; disgust and delight. 'I want-'

Before she could finish her plea, Lord Beckett pushed her roughly to the chaise. It was unexpected and only Elizabeth's top half landed onto it's soft serface, while her knees went to the hard wooden floor, causing her to wince. She felt a hand grip into her tangled hair, holding her where she was. Lord Beckett was behind her, he used his grip on her hair to pull her up, bringing her back to his chest. Elizabeth could feel the hardest part of him against her rump, still concealed by his trousers. Her moans were out of desperation for him to invade her. The spot between her legs throbbed for it and she felt like she would explode without it. He pulled her shift up, exposing her. She shifted, spreading her legs apart of him.

'Please, my lord-'

Lord Beckett grabbed a handful of her backside, causing the pressure within her to built. 'Call me by my name.'

'Cutler please, I can't take it,' she breathed.

Be-ringed fingers skimmed up the soft flesh of her inner thigh and over the searing junction of her legs. It was a scourging touch, sending her knuckles white as she grasped desperately at the edge of the chaise. She glanced back to see him untying his trousers and willed him to hurry. Her head fell to the soft velvet in wait.

It wasn't to be long, as she felt the hot appendage resting against her thigh. With no warning, he rammed into her. Elizabeth cried out. Lord Beckett remained still for a moment while she adjusted to this foreign feeling. She felt so uncomfortably full. As he began thrusting into her, the pain slowly ebbed into pleasure. Every stroke forced a moan from her lips. She tried to quiet herself, but it seemed impossible. Pressure was building. Passion coursed through her limbs and to her centre where she throbbed violently for release. Elizabeth withered.

'Harder,' she pleaded, her voice already shaking with Lord Beckett's rough movements.

He complied with her request so vigorously that her boney hips began hurting with the force they were being slammed into the wooden edge of the chaise lounge. She couldn't care for the pain, as her back arched in pleasure. Her breaths, restrained by her stays, came quicker as the muscles of her abdomen clenched in agony. Her brown eyes shut as she was forced into mindless oblivion. Lord Beckett reached around and rubbed her clit. With one more deep lunge, a hot tidal wave surged from her centre and coursed it's way through her limbs. A cry, which she could not recognize as her own, filled the silent air as she felt her body tense and release repeatedly around Lord Beckett. At the same instant he sped his pace up and rutted against her with a groan. After a moment, he pulled himself from her. He laid his chest against her back, resting from the taxing activities.

The two were left, collapsed and tired, alone in the humid room.

WRITERS NOTE

Yikes. I have never written smut of any sort. I apologize. You know when you just feel like, this is weird, why am I doing this? Yeah that's how I feel about this.

Mostly I wanted to expand on the character that I think Elizabeth is. It is touched upon quite frequently in the films that she wants to be free to do what she pleases. She seems to me as the femme fatale, willing to do anything to get her way. A totally selfish character in the best way. Yet she ended up with such a boyish and immature character, so unlike her own. She would have been far better suited with any other man in the films. Such a man eating badass who killed just to save her own skin, in my eyes, would not marry a boring man like Will in the first place, and then certainly not once she could only see him once every ten years. I just don't see what satisfaction came from an ending where she, after all her going on about freedom and sacrifices made for it, chooses to live on an island as a lonely house wife. If the movie wasn't dictated by disney (who love the happy princess with a family ending) I think her character would have made much different choices.


	4. Loyalty

Yet another uneventful day passed in the dirty cell.

It wasn't all bad, though, Elizabeth was afforded breakfast and tea in the afternoon, which raised her spirits considerably. She was still sore and tired, but no longer felt the pangs of desperate starvation. The last time her stomached had ached was the night before. Of course she had earned it well enough. Yet food wasn't the least bit entertaining. Instead she took to standing atop of the thin wooden bench, enabling her to peek out of a small barred window, out of which she could see the now darkened harbor, only lit by the rising moon. Almost nothing changed about the scene, especially at night, but the sea air was refreshing.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and sighed.

Soon she would be free. Her persuasion the night before had earned her the pardon. In mere hours she would be dining with Lord Beckett and discussing the matter. There was implications and legalities to consider, as she suspected, and they were too tired to speak of it at the time. It was no time for carnal desires and there was simply no need; she had won. Though she wouldn't be adverse.

A blush crossed her cheeks and she smiled at her own debauchery.

Elizabeth hopped down from the bench and roamed the cell. Private Murtogg was late and she wanted to speak to him; simply now because she felt that she could. He could help pass the final stretch of boredom. _'Should have asked for a book,'_ she mused to herself. She picked at the dirt under her fingernails, which there was almost none of, as her only amusement was grooming herself.

'Miss Swann,' a snide voice called her attention. It was the man that was with Lord Beckett the day she was arrested, Mister Mercer. Elizabeth deduced from his perennial scowl that he wasn't a pleasant man. 'Lord Beckett would like to inform you that he is quite busy and may not have dinner until a late hour. He wonders if you would like dinner here in your cell before your meeting.'

'I'll wait to eat with his Lordship,' she replied. 'Do you know when I'm welcome to join him?'

'That's not what I was sent to clarify,' Mister Mercer sneered. He turned on his boot and stalked away.

Elizabeth slit her eyes and curled her lip at the underbred man. 'Tell him I require tea to tide me over!'

Mister Mercer swiftly turned to her once more. 'Fucking his lordship doesn't give you precedence over me. You'll have to ask him yourself if you want tea, _'mam,_ ' he sarcastically bowed at the last word.

Notwithstanding Mister Mercers crude remarks, which sent Elizabeth sitting on her bench, face red in embarrassment, she received the tea as requested. An hour went by as she waited to be called upon. There was little entertainment, save for the guards trying to light all of the torches and light fixtures. Once that nightly ordeal was finished she took to watching a snail make it's way slowly across the stone wall.

Footsteps drew her attention away from her newest slimy friend. It was Private Murtogg, and at last her boredom over. Elizabeth smiled, but it was outlived by confusion. He seemed panicked as he reached for his keys and unlocked her cell.

'Come quickly,' it was her father, who appeared behind Private Murtogg.

Elizabeth was confused, but did as told.

The aging man hadn't been so quick as long as Elizabeth could remember. She struggled to keep up with his pace as they passed through corridor after corridor of the prision. He was frantic and shaking.

'You've got to tell me what's happening,' Elizabeth hissed as they rounded yet another corner of the never-ending maze. She was worried now. After all she had done to receive the pardon and her father might be the one to ruin it by staging a prison break.

'I may still have some standing with the King,' he breathed, eyes searching for enemies as they went. 'I've arranged passage to England. The captain is a friend of mine.'

'No!' Elizabeth gasped. She didn't want to tell her father about the pardon for fear of his enquiries as to how she acquired it. 'Will has gone to find Jack,' she argued instead.

'We cannot count on William Turner,' Weatherby grabbed her by the arm, 'Come!'

Elizabeth couldn't go. If she did, surely the pardon would be burnt in the fire and she would never be given a chance to earn it again. Even if she made it to England, she would still be a wanted criminal, only her list of offences would be longer and the punishment more severe. She had to tell her father about the pardon. 'I've spoken to Lord Beckett. He's promised my pardon!'

'Don't be so childish Elizabeth, he wouldn't have given you a pardon unless he could make great gain of it. Batting your pretty eyelashes isn't payment enough,' he patronized, still dragging her through a corridor. The final stretch, an arch that lead to the outside world approached. A carriage waited beyond. 'Beckett has offered one pardon only one, and that is promised to Jack Sparrow, even if Will succeeds.'

The two came to a halt outside. Elizabeth was confused, her heart pounded. 'No father I swear, I am meant to speak to him any moment now and then I shall be free!' Her father wasn't a dim man and he wouldn't speak of a matter which he did not know too much of. She was trying to convince herself that for once he was wrong.

'Beckett will give only one, Elizabeth! I heard him say it myself. How gullible of you, you know not of this man. He is a liar and a scoundrel and has been since I met him twenty years ago!' Weatherby sighed and put his hand on his daughters shoulder. 'Do not ask me to endure the sight of my daughter walking to the gallows. Do not.' He pulled her to the carriage, 'Perhaps I can ensure a fair trial for Will if he returns,' he helped her inside.

Elizabeth scowled at the idea of a fair trial. Will was still her friend despite her regretful feelings towards a marriage with him. He didn't deserve death for something she shared a part in. 'A fair trial for Will ends in a hanging.'

'Then there is nothing left for you here,' he said, sounding the least bit sorry as he shut the carriage door in her face.

The carriage jolted as it sprung into a steady pace, nearly sending Elizabeth crashing into the opposite seat. She sighed and closed her eyes.

It was impossible that her father could have been mistaken. He wouldn't go to such trouble if he wasn't sure of himself. After living with him for just over seventeen years, it was a matter of fact; her father was never wrong. How could she have been so gullible? It was stupid to think that Lord Beckett would be bought for such a low price. She had nothing that he wanted, not truly. Not like Jack, who had the compass, or even Will who could work for the company. Elizabeth felt like an idiot, and worse, she felt hurt. She had played with fire and was now made to be burnt to a crisp. Her mind whirled with thoughts. She was so confused on what to think and what to feel. Really, she had to accept that it was she who had been played as a fool.

So a new plan had to be put in place. No matter where she looked, it seemed death was the punishment, only the wait for it varied. If she went back to England, she was still a criminal, Will would be hung, and who knew what might come of her father. If she stayed in prison, she would be hung shortly after Will's arrival with Jack, if it ever happened. There was only one option left. Lord Beckett had lied to her, but he did have her pardon. No longer was she going to be the damsel in distress; Elizabeth was going to go to Lord Beckett and strike a bargain with him. It was she who was going to get the compass, not William, for her fathers sake, for now he was surely in just as much trouble of she. Not only that, then if Will had to take the commission for the company, she could put an end to their engagement and not feel so terrible.

The carriage came to a sudden halt, jarring her thoughts. Out of the window she saw her father walking towards a man. The captain, waiting to take her back to England.

Elizabeth quietly opened the door of the carriage and slipped into the night.

* * *

Elizabeth crept past the sleeping guard, sat in a chair outside of Lord Beckett's office. Just one more step and she was inside. The door was open, leaving her to worry that Lord Beckett was somewhere near.

 _Creek,_ went the wooden planks of the deck below her feet. Her heart skipped a beat, but the guard didn't move. With one more silent lunge, she crossed the threshold.

The office was shadowy, only lit by a handful of candles on the desk and the streams of moonlight seeping from the large windows. Elizabeth's dark eyes patrolled the area on high alert for Lord Beckett, but he was no where to be seen. She was safe for now, but needed to hurry. First matter of importance was her pardon. Lord Beckett had made the mistake of showing her where it was the night before. On the desk, in a wooden box, in a leather pouch; she pulled out the documents with nimble fingers. And there it was on top, a pardon with her name scribbled in all the right places. There was one other, a letter of marque, the one promised for Jack. A commission as a privateer; Jack would never take such a deal, but Will would. It was the least she could do. Both missing Lord Beckett's signature and seal. Elizabeth held the leather pouch firmly in hand and searched the rest of the desk. Finally, at the last drawer to search she hit the jackpot. It was the gun that Private Murtogg had given her. She smiled to herself; at last, not so a helpless woman.

 _Tap tap, tap tap._

Elizabeth froze. It was a sound she was familiar to; the sound of riding boots on wood. Someone was near. Her eyes glanced over at the guard outside, who was still sleeping. The golden glow of a lantern was cast onto him. She raced across the room to one of the many dark corners as silently as she could manage. Her heart beat so furiously that she felt it could have been heard throughout the room. The glow grew brighter and brighter, until Lord Beckett finally turned the corner and entered his office. In one hand he held a lantern and in the other a letter. He was too busy reading it to have noticed the sleeping guard. Elizabeth held her breath as he approached the desk. To her dismay he reached first for the wooden box, no longer containing its most important documents. The leather pouch burned in her hand.

'No doubt you've discovered that loyalty is no longer the currency of the realm, as your father believes,' he articulated, causing her stomach to flip.

This was her chance.

Elizabeth stepped out of the dark corner, her heels on the wood announcing her presence as she no longer aimed to quiet herself. She stood the moonlight, pistol and letters held behind her back. Swallowing her nerves, she spoke, 'Then what is?'

Lord Beckett turned to face her with a hand on his hip. 'I'm afraid currency is the new currency of the realm,' he informed arrogantly.

'I expect then that we can come to some sort of understanding,' she waltzed the center of the room. Her movements were matched by Lord Beckett until they met.

'Our understanding last night was perfectly suitable,' he said with a twisted smile. He reached for the white cravat around his neck and worked to untie it.

'You have broken that understanding,' she corrected haughtily with slit eyes. 'I came here to negotiate.'

'I'm listening,' he murmured, still fiddling with his clothing, as if testing her patience. His actions were met by the barrel of her pistol pointed at his forehead. He dropped his hands and sighed, as if only annoyed and not at all bothered that she could so easily kill him. 'I'm listening _intently.'_

'These letters of marque, they are signed by the King?' she held them to her chest.

'Yes and they're not valid until they bare my signature and my seal.'

'Or else I would not still be here,' she lowered the pistol to his chest. She was ready to talk. 'You sent Will to get you the compass owned by Jack Sparrow. It will do you no good.'

'Do explain.'

'I have been to the Isla de Muerta and I have seen the treasure myself,' she stepped towards him, feeling more confident. 'And there is something that you need to know.'

'Ah, I see,' the ghost of a smile crossed Lord Becketts features, worrying Elizabeth. 'You think the compass only leads to the Isla de Muerta, and so you hope to save me from an evil fate.'

Elizabeth's stomach turned and the smugness she had previously held was wiped from her features. Had she gotten something wrong?

'But you mustn't worry,' he falsely reassured her. He calmly strode away, towards the great wall map. 'I care not for cursed Aztec gold. My desires are not so provincial,' he crossed his arms across his chest and turned to her. 'There's more than one chest of value in these waters.'

Too many times that night Elizabeth felt so daftly. And she did once more. How could she have ever thought that the compass only lead to _one_ thing in the entire ocean? That such an otherworldly item would have such restrictions? She had never had any leverage and now she had to think quick; or force him into signing the letters.

Lord Beckett strode towards her, getting closer and closer. She didn't stop him. 'And so perhaps you may wish to _enhance_ your offer.'

Elizabeth knew what he meant and she wasn't going to make such a mistake again. She held her pistol at his jaw, cocking it as a warning. They stepped towards the desk. 'Consider last night into your calculations,' she shoved the letters into his chest, rather aggressively. 'You seemed to enjoy it enough.'

'So I did,' he muttered, taking the letters. 'Perhaps I might make it up to you.'

'I don't have time for your games,' she echoed the words he had used to her the night before. 'I want, at the very least, my pardon signed and also the letter of marque. I shall fetch the compass and any knowledge on it which you may require. When I return I expect my father to be unharmed and in good health.'

Lord Beckett eyed her as he signed one of the two documents. 'You're making great efforts to ensure Jack's freedom.'

'These aren't going to Jack,' she snapped defensively.

'Oh really?' he challenged. 'To ensure Mister Turners freedom? For guilt that you feel? Or is it that his life at sea would certainly be reason for you to sunder the relationship?'

Elizabeth tightened her jaw and her eyes darted towards the floor, unable to meet his gaze. She had been called out and lacked a clever retort. 'Why did you lie to me?' she childishly blurted out. There was no denying that she felt hurt over it all. It was rare that she didn't mean much of anything to man.

'Why did you believe me?'

'Well I-' she dropped the pistol searched her thoughts for an explanation. _'I thought I could lay with you and you would do my bidding, just like any man,'_ she thought. But that wasn't the truth, not fully anyways. 'Well I don't know.'

'Oh, Miss Swann,' Lord Beckett said in a teasing manner. 'Is it unpleasant to be on the receiving end of manipulation?' With no response, save for her eyes flashing down in shame, he chuckled. 'It was nice, but not worth what you demanded.' He placed wax onto her pardon and pressed his signet ring to it. 'You may have your pardon, and upon your return with the compass, your fathers as well. I will not sign the letter of marque until then, and I will certainly not hand out any others to the scores of lovers you may wound in the near future.'

Elizabeth moved to aim her gun once more, but was stopped by his hand on her wrist.

'Shoot and your death will be swift,' what he said was true and she knew it. 'You are to return to me with the compass and the knowledge to use it. You shall be rewarded greatly for it. Understood?' He let go of her wrist, exchanging it for her waist, and handed her the leather pouch. 'Your letter and a copy of Jack's for leverage.'

Nod and walk away; that's what Elizabeth wanted to do. But Lord Beckett's hand on her waist halted her from doing so. She wanted to know what he felt for her and she didn't understand why; she had intended to be so ruthless with him, but instead felt like she was a doe, staring down the barrel of a gun. She felt so naïve. But the confusion had to be put away from her mind.

Elizabeth nodded, agreeing to what he said. 'Promise me that my father will be safe here.' Her free hand went to his chest and gripped onto his waistcoat. 'Please.'

'You have my word.'

With a smooth movement, Elizabeth leaned forwards and kissed the corner of his lips. It was foolish of her and she was well aware of that, but her urge to do it had been far too insatiable to deny. As she backed away, she avoided looking at Lord Beckett's face, fearing what his expression might have been. She knew his actions of desire were for manipulation; the reason she chose to show it was unclear and she felt it would not be approved. Elizabeth swallowed hard. Feeling suffocated by all that she didn't understand about him, nor herself, she turned and rushed out of the office.

WRITERS NOTE  
So hopefully I'm going to finally get around to editing the chapters. I'm sure no one wants to be reading a rough draft, but I get so focused on the writing that editing is just... ehg.


	5. A Touch of Destiny

Far away from Elizabeth's plights, two boats rowed slowly through the humid swamp of a large island just north of Cuba. It was haunted; that's what some of the crew members were whispering. Perhaps it wasn't, but the loud hum of cicadas and the island residents peeking though the brush were certainly unsettling. However it wasn't as unsettling as the reason for their visit to Jack's old friend.

'Why is Jack afraid of the open ocean?' William Turner asked Mister Gibbs.

'Well, if you believe in such things,' Mister Gibbs replied, lowering his voice as he noticed Jack peek over his shoulder from the other boat. 'There's a beast that does the bidding of Davy Jones. A fearsome creature with giant tentacles that suction your face clean off.' His hands replicated a suction cup. 'And drag an entire ship down to the crushing darkness,' he paused for drama, 'the Kraken.'

The four listening men (Will, Pintel, Ragetti, and Marty), glanced at one another. It was a worrying tale.

'They say the stench of it's breath is-' Mister Gibbs shuttered. 'Imagine, the last thing you know on Gods green earth is the roar of the Kraken and the reeking odor of a thousand rotting corpses. If you believe in such things.'

Will knew to take Mister Gibb's stories with a grain of salt. The man loved sharing creepy stories from what he gathered of him. Though Will believed this one; he had to, after fighting Captain Barbossa's skeleton crew it was difficult not to believe in all things strange and unnerving. 'And the key will spare him that?'

'Now that's the very question that Jack wants answered, bad enough even to go visit. . . her.'

'Her?' Will echoed.

Mister Gibbs nodded. 'Aye.'

It wasn't much of an answer, but he suspected that he would soon find out who this 'her' was and how she was going to be of any help to Jack.

Deeper and deeper they went into the forested swamp; it grew darker and darker, the only lights being the fireflies that flew gracefully over the water and around the trees. Jack was growing uneasy; he knew that soon they would reach the shack that housed Tia Dalma; his old friend, if you could call her that. There was something about her that always put Jack on edge. The dark beauty had otherworldly powers and could help him greatly; but like himself, she never did something that wouldn't ultimately help herself.

The golden glow of the shack finally emerged from the trees, parting the darkness. As the boats made the last seconds of their journey, Jack stood and stepped onto the dock outside of the shack.

'No worries, mates,' Jack told the crew, really only trying to convince himself. 'Tia Dalma and I go way back, thick as thieves, nigh inseparable we are,' and they had to an extent. Though the peace was merely kept for the rewards that Tia had reaped from their dealings in the past. Sure, she might call them friends, but in reality she was faithful to no soul, especially a mans. There was always a chance that their meetings could end in disaster. 'Were. . . have been,' he corrected himself nervously, 'before.'

'I'll watch your back,' Mister Gibbs reassured his captain.

'It's me front I'm worried about,' Jack muttered through gritted teeth.

'Mind the boat,' Mister Gibbs told Will.

'Mind the boat,' Will told Ragetti.

'Mind the boat,' Ragetti told Pintel.

'Mind the boat,' Pintel told Marty.

'Mind the boat,' Marty told Cotton.

'Mind the boat,' Cotton's parrot told Cotton before flying away.

And so finally the boat was left, minded by Cotton.

The group of men cautiously entered the shack, with Jack in the lead. It was the same as he had remembered it, but now a worrying yellow python had itself wrapped on one of the few trees that had grown through the wooden floors. It was a cluttered place, with candles placed where they would fit and jars full of suspicious liquids hung from the ceiling, as the shelves were too full.

'Jack Sparrow!' said Tia Dalma with a smile, as she sat a desk, inspecting something surely plagued with black magic.

'Tia Dalma,' Jack greeted her with equal joy, before nearly knocking his head on one of the many hanging jars. This one looked like it was full of small dead rodents.

'I always knew de wind was goin' blow you back to me one day,' she approached with her skirts in one hand as she stepped over books and more jars scattered about the floor. A smile graced her face as she did, until she saw the young boy standing in the doorway, Will. ' _You_ ,' she muttered as she pointed at him. Jack's eyes followed her finger and turned to look at him. 'You have a touch of. . . _destiny_ about you.' She swept over to him. 'William Turner.'

'You know me?'

Jack looked away, now more worried than ever. He had heard those words come from her once before. It was fifteen years ago, when Jack was working for the East India Trading Company. He and Cutler Beckett were ruthlessly climbing their ways up the ranks, lying, cheating, and stealing to do so. But there was one man who was doing far better, Lord Drummond; they intended to get rid of him, just as they had the others. This man, after several attempts, they realized would not be disposed of so easily. They had heard of Tia Dalma on their endeavor's in the West Indies and sought her out to strike a deal with her; neither of them believed in her, not really, but it was worth a shot. They offered her any service to sink the competition and just like now, she had spoken.

'Cutler Beckett,' she had said, in the same eerie way, with no knowledge of him. 'You have a touch of. . . destiny about you.'

Jack still felt the same chills as the first time he had heard her say it. The two had left her shack, laughing about how insane the woman was. But she had promised that her end of the bargain would be held up; though it wasn't clear what she wanted from them. In a week they had gotten the news. A hurricane had sunk Lord Drummonds fleet and killed everyone aboard. It was a coincidence, Jack had told himself a thousand times. But he did not convince himself that this was true. Killing someone by black magic brought about much more guilt than skillful combat. That wasn't the worst of it though, he feared what their payment to Tia Dalma would be. He never found out, but had his suspicions.  
Within the next two years, as they kept climbing, Cutler was just one position ahead of Jack. His boss, but not by much. The two began arguing about the intentions of the company and it was suddenly so clear to Jack that Cutler was competition and he was to him, just like Lord Drummond. One day, Jack had enough of the companies evil ways and gave up on trying to make it to the top. He was supposed to be delivering cargo to Jamaica, but the cargo was slaves. Jack freed the slaves on a passing island, which looked stable enough. For that, Cutler burnt down the Black Pearl, sending it to the depths and branded Jack with the 'P' for pirate. He shot Cutler in the shoulder with his pistol, but his old friend hadn't flinched. Hadn't bled. Jack fled the ship, and since then wondered why that was. Had he missed? He didn't think so. Something told him it had to do with the eerie words of Tia Dalma about destiny.

Since then he hadn't been so adverse to her help, as like the first time, he hadn't certainly known what she wanted as payment; who knew, sometimes a strange object was enough and sometimes it could be fatal consequences to fear later. It wasn't that he didn't fear her or what she may have done, but in recent years he had made far too many shady deals to be bothered. The Kraken was searching for him on Davy Jones behalf; there wasn't much to worry over that was more terrifying than that.

Jack shuddered and put all those taxing thoughts to the side.

'You want to know _me_ ,' Tia Dalma's honeyed voice said to Will.

Jack approached the two quickly. 'There will be no knowing here. We've come for help and we're not leaving without it.' He grabbed her arm and tried to shift the subject. 'I thought I knew you.'

'Not so well as I had hoped,' she walked with him. 'Come,' she told the crew standing near the door.

'Come,' Jack echoed.

'What service,' Tia held Wills shoulder as he sat down and then stroked his jawbone, 'may I do you?' She stopped and shot a glare at Jack. 'You know I demand payment.'

'I brought payment,' Jack reassured. With a whistle, Mister Gibbs brought over a covered cage which Jack pulled the sheet from. It was Captain Barbossa's monkey, Jack. 'Look,' he exclaimed as he put his pistol to the cage. He fired at it, which did no harm to the monkey. 'And undead monkey. Top that.'

Tia let the monkey Jack out of his cage, free to roam about. This caused irritated sighs from the crew, who had spent a lot of time capturing it.

'The payment is fair,' she informed, much to Jack's relief.

'We're looking for this,' Will showed her the soggy old parchment that had a key drawn onto it. 'And what it goes to.'

Tia's jaw clenched. 'The compass you barter from me,' she said to Jack. 'It cannot lead you to this?'

'Maybe,' he furrowed his brow. 'Why?'

'Ahh,' she sat down. 'Jack Sparrow does not know what he wants. Or- do you know, but not how to claim it as your own?'

Jack remained silent, feeling called out and unknowing whether to admit to this or not.

'Your key go to a chest, and it is what lay inside the chest you seek,' she continued. 'Don't it?'

'What is inside?' Mister Gibbs asked curiously.

'Gold? Jewels? Unclaimed properties of a valuable nature?' Pintel asked.

Ragetti cringed as he looked at the jar of eyeballs hanging next to him. 'Nothing bad, I hope.'

'You know of Davy Jones,' Tia smiled. 'Yes? A man of the sea, a great sailor. Until he ran a foul with that which vexes all men.'

'What vexes all men?' Will questioned.

Tia reached out and touched his hand. 'What indeed?'

'Well the sea,' Mister Gibbs guessed.

'Sums.'

'Dichotomy of good and evil,' Ragetti blurted out.

'A woman,' Jack rolled his eyes.

'A _woman_ ,' Tia drew out the last word. 'He fell in love.'

'No-no-no-no, I head it was the sea he fell in love with,' Mister Gibbs said.

Tia dismissed his comment with a wave of her hand. 'Same story, different versions, and all are true. See, it was a woman, as changing, and harsh, and untamable as the sea. Him never stopped loving her. But the pain it cause 'im was too much to live wid. But not enough to cause him to die.'

Will couldn't help but be reminded of Elizabeth, how changing, harsh, and untamable she was. He had lost her somewhere between their engagement and their wedding and he had known it. But it had to be put out of his mind; he was going to save her. 'What exactly did he put into the chest?'

'Him heart,' Tia touched the skin over her breast where her own heart was beating.

'Literally or figuratively?' Ragetti wondered out loud.

'He couldn't li'erally put his heart in a chest!' Pintel snapped at his friend. 'Could he?'

'It was not wort' feeling what, small fleeting joy life brings, and so . . . he carved out him heart, lock it away in a chest, and hide de chest from de world. De key,' she looked down at the parchment, 'he keep wid him at all times.'

Will stood to face Jack. 'You knew this.'

'I did not. I didn't know where the key was. But now we do. So all that's left is to climb aboard the Flying Dutchman, grab the key, you go back to Port Royal and save your bonnie lass, hey!' Jack spoke without breath, ready to leave the shack.

'Let me see your hand,' Tia commanded Jack as she reached her own out.

Jack showed her his right hand, untouched by the blackspot. She didn't look convinced, and so with a sigh, he handed over his left. Tia unwrapped the bandage and revealed the blackspot.

This sent the crew wiping their hands on their chests, spinning once to the left, and spitting on the floor.  
'Black spot!'

'My eyesight is as good as ever, just so you know,' Jack announced.

Tia left the room, muttering to herself. Jack reached down and took a ring off of the table, next to a silver locket, and pocketed it just before she returned.

'Davy Jones cannot make port. Cannot step on land but once every ten years. Land is where you are safe, Jack Sparrow.' Tia held out a jar of dirt. 'And so you will carry land wid you.'

Jack took the jar of dirt. It seems to him that she was losing some of her magical luster.

'Dirt. This is a jar of dirt.'

'Yes?'

'Is the. . . jar of dirt going to help?'

'You don' want it, give it back.'

Jack held the jar to his chest. 'No.'

'Den it helps,' Tia smiled.

Will sighed. 'It seems we have a need to find the Flying Dutchman.'

Tia sat back down at her table. She held several crab shells within her cupped hands and closed her eyes. 'A touch. . . of destiny!' She threw the crab claws down onto the table, laying out a sort of map.

With that, their destiny was sealed. To the Flying Dutchmen they went.

WRITERS NOTE

So this is definitely a boring chapter and very much just the scene in the movie written out and with a little tiny bit added. I didn't want to do it, but for the direction I want this to go in I thought it was important. Thanks for reading!


	6. The Unique Compass

Drunken laughter and music filled the air. Elizabeth Swann was grateful to have finally made it to Tortuga, after a month of sailing with the band of idiot privateers, who she had only just fooled into making port at the pirate town. As much as she enjoyed the sea, there was nothing quite like the feeling of the solid ground underfoot. And just as she had suspected and hoped for, the Black Pearl was waiting at the docks. From where she stood below, she couldn't see who was aboard; she assumed no one, other than a few crew members guarding the ship.

Elizabeth let a long breath out as she leaned against a damp wooden crate on the dock. She knew that in a matter of minutes she would be faced with Will, who she had nothing to say to. How could she? What she needed to say to him, was that she was terribly sorry, but that she wasn't ready for marriage. Not to him, anyway. Not to mention that she had wronged him by laying with another, one who had jailed her and sent him away on a task to be rewarded with a trip to the gallows. Elizabeth had plenty of time to think at sea and had chosen not to tell Will anything that would hurt him more than necessary. Her admission to him that she didn't want marriage would be hurtful enough. What was worse was that she knew he would forgive her; Will would apologize a thousand times for her lies. That was a fact that she had tortured herself with for the last month. Will would blame himself, while it was she who was to blame for everything wrong in their relationship. A nervous pit in her stomach worried her that when faced with his boyish smile, she wouldn't be able to hurt him. She feared that she may lead him on. That's not what she wanted; she wanted him to be free of her, free to marry someone else who would be happy with him and want his children. Free of a miserable life with a woman who couldn't love him in the way he deserved. Free from a foolish woman who fell in love with anyone and everyone but him.

Elizabeth knew the latter was the truth. How many men had she loved that weren't Will? There was James Norrington, her first love who hadn't had the time for her until she had safely fallen out of love with him. She had loved him through four other men that she thought she also loved, John the banker, Arthur the librarian, Henry the married shop owner, and Lieutenant Gillette, who's first name she shamefully didn't know. Those four she had loved all within three weeks and all while she loved James. Then there was Jack, who she had swooned over on many occasions, which she cringed to think about as she wondered of all the places he had been. And most recently, Lord Beckett, who Elizabeth felt much more in love with than any other man she had been. It was foolish of her. After a month to reflect, she knew well that she had been played and that it had meant nothing to him. But it meant a lot to her. He was the first man that she had laid with and she wanted nothing more than to get back to him. The feelings had to be rid of and she hoped that the time spent away from him would soon cure her. Though she had decided that that wasn't likely.

The familiar lump came to her throat as she choked up, her body willing her to cry. Her vision went blurry with the tears welling up in her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away with the sleeve of her dirty lawnshirt. She had to get over it.

Elizabeth pushed herself away from the crate and climbed the plank that lead to the deck of the Black Pearl. She peaked over the edge, but saw only a few crew members sitting on the deck. Jack didn't seem to be there, and in Tortuga she suspected that he was in the nearest pub. And so she set off through the town with too much on her mind. She peeked inside every doorway she passed and into every window. Down streets and up alleyways, she couldn't find a clue as to where he was. She kept walking, too afraid to stop and ask anyone.

Finally, a large pub came into view. Groups of drunken men and women of ill repute were stumbling and fighting outside of its stone walls. It looked like just the place Jack would spend free time in. Elizabeth approached, dodging stumbling men and stepping carefully over what looked like vomit on the dirt ground. A giggling woman grabbed the sleeve of the old frockcoat she had stolen; Elizabeth cringed away from the strumpet and darted towards the arched door of the pub. Music was blaring from a band playing away in the corner and men were throwing bottles and punches.

In the centre of it all was a dirty man in once fine blue and gold naval livery. He fought skillfully against several opponents with his sword, but began stumbling as he tried to keep a grip on his bottle of rum. Elizabeth recognized this man immediately and sprung into action to assist before he was hurt; it was a drunken James Norrington, a sight she thought she would never see. Her swordsmanship was poorly, only having practiced with the sword that she had hidden under her bed while she was alone in her chambers at night, but it was enough that she was steady in her movements and kept their enemies at bay. James ceased fighting for a moment to take a large gulp of his booze while a man lunged at him with a sword. Elizabeth stopped the attack and threw her fist at the mans face, causing him to fall to the ground, which she was proud for. The enemies kept coming and sooner than later, Elizabeth and James were backed against a wooden support beam, their two swords against many.

'Come on then!' James bellowed loudly. 'Who wants some? Form an orderly line, I'll have you all one by one! Come on who's first?'

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at his provocations. She grabbed the bottle of rum from his hand and smashed it over his head, sending him toppling to the ground. A rather rash decision, but she had to shut him up. They couldn't take on twenty more in his state.

'I just wanted the pleasure of doing that myself,' she said as she leaned against the beam once more. The drunkards cheered and promptly picked James up, dragged him across the pub, and threw him outside, into a pig sty.

Once they cleared the way, Elizabeth approached. She felt sorry, not so much for hitting him over the head, which was certainly better than him being impaled by a sword, but for where he ended up. It had been eight months since she last saw him; it had been brief, as he left to catch Jack Sparrow. She couldn't bring herself to speak to him at the docks that day, letting her father do the speaking instead. The hurricane had brought his fleet down. Elizabeth couldn't help feeling that he wouldn't have ended up in Tortuga as a mangy drunk if he had had her waiting for him, as she should have been. As she had made him believe before turning to Will, who she turned from now. All the hurt was for nothing and he had become what she feared the most. Many times she thought about how differently everything would have turned out if they had only loved each other at the same time, but they hadn't, they had just missed it by a little.

Elizabeth stepped through the mud and helped James up. 'James Norrington,' she whispered, 'what has the world done to you?'

James crawled up to his feet with a groan, using Elizabeth as a support. 'Elizabeth,' a ghost of a smile crept across his features before his brow worried. 'What are you doing here? Why are you dressed so?'

'Let's get you out of here,' she put his arm around her shoulders. 'We'll talk about it when we're not so close to people who want to see you dead.'

The two made their way, slowly, across the town and towards the docks. They went through dark alleyways and crowded streets. Elizabeth's brown eyes scanned the area for any member of Jacks crew, but spotted no one. At the docks the Black Pearl waited, but was still mostly barren of life. She wondered when Jack would return and if Will was with him, what she would say, especially if caught attending to her first fiancé.

 _'Oh don't worry sweet William, this is not what you think, I am not in love with James,' her mind played out sarcastically. 'You see as it were, while you were off saving me I took a fancy to the man who interrupted our wedding and jailed the two of us. Now if you don't mind, I have to take the compass for myself and we shall we returning to Port Royal where you will be sent away and I will vie for the attentions of him. Thank you for your efforts!'_

Elizabeth sat James down onto a wooden crate nearby and dunked a bucket into the water below. She dampened the sleeve of her lawn shirt and used it to wipe the mud from his face, trying not to think about how horrible she had been to him. It was all very uncomfortable, but she felt she owed him her kindness.

'What started the fight?' She asked, trying to ease the tension.

'It was me,' James admitted shamefully. 'I saw Jack and intended on shooting him. One of his crew grabbed my hand and I shot into the air. It all kicked off after that.'

'I'm here to speak to Jack,' she told him. 'Well, I need something in his possession for my fathers freedom.'

'Freedom? Elizabeth what's happened?'

'Where do I start. . .' she muttered with a breathy laugh. 'Well that day, you know, when-' she struggled to get the words out. _'The day that I ruined your life,'_ her mind said. 'When Jack escaped. Well the news made it back home, to England. It was supposed to be Will and I's wedding day, but a Lord Cutler Beckett of the East India Trading Company came with warrants for our arrest and deaths. He had one for you too, James.' James didn't say anything, but nodded for her to continue. 'Will made a deal with Lord Beckett; fetch Jack's compass for his and I's freedom. Lord Beckett lied, as my father found out; we would get the death sentence even if Will did return successful. You know my father,' Elizabeth shook her head. 'He broke me out of prison and arranged passage to England. I didn't want to go, I'd be a criminal just the same there and my father would be jailed for my escape. So I made a deal with Lord Beckett myself; I have my pardon, now all I need is Jack's compass for my father.'

'What of Mister Turners freedom?'

'Of course, his too,' Elizabeth wrung out her sleeve into the bucket and sat it down on the wooden docks. She wished the conversation hadn't turned towards her fiancé. 'Well, he'll be given a letter of marque if I return, and so he'll be sent away to work as a privateer. I expect I won't see him often after that.'

'I am sorry, Elizabeth,' James said. 'I know you love him-'

'Don't be,' Elizabeth said too quickly. James looked at her questioningly. 'Everything went a bit sour with Will and I,' she went on. 'I know you're the last person who cares, but-'

Elizabeth was about to go on a rant about it, but was interrupted by a familiar voice passing behind her.

'Captain, we could make a heading towards. . .' the voice was that of Mister Gibbs.

The pair looked at each other. Elizabeth pulled James to his feet and followed after the two figures which she recognized as indeed Mister Gibbs and Captain Jack Sparrow. Her heart pounded; so soon her father could be freed and Will no longer slaving for her love. All of the misery and mess could be put to bed within weeks.

'Captain Sparrow,' Elizabeth called out over the creaking of the large boats and busy crew members around them.

'Come to join me crew lad?' Jack hardly glanced back. 'Welcome aboard.'

'I'm here to find my fiancé,' her last word left a sour taste in her mouth. It had been some time since she had used the word out loud to describe Will, and she felt guilty for it.

'I'm deeply flattered my son, but my first and only love is the sea,' Jack said, facing Mister Gibbs.

James threw himself to the side of the docks and vomited.

'Meaning William Turner, Captain Sparrow,' Elizabeth corrected.

Jack turned on his heel to face her, wide eyed and looking concerned. 'Elizabeth,' Jack muttered before turning back to Mister Gibbs. 'Hide the rum,' he turned to face her once more. 'You know these clothes do not flatter you at all. It should be a dress or nothing and I happen to have no dress in my cabin.' It seemed like a desperate attempt to change the subject.

'Jack,' Elizabeth said, putting an end to his ramblings. 'I know Will came to find you, where is he?'

A sigh escaped Jacks lips. 'Darling I am truly unhappy to have to tell you this, but. . . through an unfortunate and entirely unforeseeable series of circumstances that have _nothing_ whatsoever to do with me,' he took a deep breath.' Poor Will, has been pressganged into Davy Jones' crew.'

Elizabeth felt relieved; she would not have to break Will's heart that day. But she wasn't sure she heard Jack correctly. 'Davy Jones?' she had heard of the legends, but she must not have heard correctly.

Jack nodded, looking fearful of Elizabeth.

James once more violently vomited. 'Oh please,' he interrupted, breathing heavily. 'The captain of the Flying Dutchman?'

'You look bloody awful,' Jack remarked to the mud drenched man. 'What are you doing here?'

'You hired me, I can't help that your standards are lax.'

'You smell funny-'

'Jack-' Elizabeth got his attention once more. Will being sent to Davy Jones, if that was true, meant setbacks for her. She was going to break his heart, but she certainly wasn't going to let him die. It would have been easier if she could have met him at Tortuga and brought him back to Port Royal to some how sunder their ties, while simultaneously being his hero, but that clearly wasn't an option. She had to save him from Davy Jones now, she supposed, whatever that would entail. Save Will and steal the compass. At least she was in the right place. 'All I want is to find Will.'

'I know,' Jack whispered as he looked down. But suddenly, something changed on his sorrowful face. 'Are you certain? Is that what you _really_ want most?'

Elizabeth's brow furrowed in suspicion of Jack. 'Of course.'

'Because I would think,' Jack put his hand onto her shoulder, 'you would want to find a way to save Will most.'

'And you'd have a way of doing that?' She wasn't the least bit interested in one of his schemes and her unenthusiastic voice said so.

'Well,' he continued. 'There is a chest-'

'-oh dear,' James groaned, earning him a scowl from Jack.

'A chest of unknown size and origin-'

'-what contains the still beatin' heart of Davy Jones,' Pintel added in as he passed by with Ragetti.

Ragetti made the sound of a heartbeat with his throat and demonstrated with his free hand.

Elizabeth was growing more bewildered by the second. She remembered that Lord Beckett had also said something about a chest. 'Wh-'

Jack went on explaining. 'And whoever possesses that chest, possesses the leverage to command Jones to do whatever he or she wants. _Including_ saving brave William from his grim fate.'

'You don't actually believe him, do you?' James questioned Elizabeth.

It wasn't a matter of believing Jack, but rather a lack of choice but to do so. Saving Will wasn't optional and she herself had no idea how to do so. Whatever Jack was up to, she had to go along with it for the time being. He had proven once before that his scheming was usually for the good of the many, it just so happened to include the good for himself. Even if it did seem suspicious to begin with.

'How do we find it?'

'With this,' Jack held up his compass. Elizabeth's eyes lit up. 'My compass. It is unique.'

'Unique here having the meaning of broken,' James sneered.

'True enough,' Jack went on, sending James rolling his eyes and heading back for the side of the docks. 'This compass does not point north.'

'Where does it point?' Elizabeth asked.

'It points to the thing that you want most in this world,' he said.

 _'Aha!'_ That was why Lord Beckett wanted the compass. If it worked as Jack said; it was likely that he was only delusional and just so happened to be lucky enough to find what he wanted while using it. Which could very well be the chest of Davy Jones! If she returned with that, surely she would be rewarded with whatever she wanted. _'Just need to get to the chest, find Will, and return to Port Royal with him, compass, and a beating heart.'_

'Oh Jack,' she whispered with a smile on her face, hoping that he wouldn't realize any scheming on her part. 'Are you telling the truth?'

'Every word, love,' he nodded. 'Now what you want _most_ in this world-' he placed the compass into her hands- 'is to find the chest of Davy Jones, is it not?'

'To save Will?' she half questioned, half corrected.

'By finding the chest of Davy Jones,' he opened the compass and darted away from her.

The needle of the compass began spinning immediately. It spun one way and then the other. What she wanted most in the world was not to save Will. At the top of that list was her father, safe and happy. Then to be free to do as she pleased. And then there was Lord Beckett. . . _'What you want most is to save Will, you want Davy Jones' chest, Davy Jones' chest, Davy-'_ The needle still spun, unconvinced of what she wanted. _'You want to find the chest of Davy Jones to save Will so that you can successfully make it back to Port Royal where you will free father, Will shall be sent to be a privateer away from you evil grasps, and you can vie for Lord Beckett once more. For all these things you need the chest first. The chest will help you even more than the compass.'_ The needle slowed to a two o'clock position. Elizabeth only hoped it had truly believed what she wanted most was the chest and the compass wouldn't send them somewhere incriminating.

Jack peeked over the edge of the compass. 'Mister Gibbs,' he called.

'Captain.'

'We have our heading.'

'Finally!' Mister Gibbs smiled. 'Cast off those lines, weigh anchor, and throw that canvas!'

Jack gestured towards the Black Pearl. 'Miss Swann.'

Elizabeth thought for a moment. Could she not simply run away with the compass? Did she _need_ the heart? If Jack didn't have the compass then she safely put Lord Beckett as the only one able to find the chest, if it was really what he wanted. That could be rewarded greatly. She could hop onto another ship and make it back to Port Royal to save her father. But Will would be lost and she felt the upmost guilt for that. It was far better for her to hurt him and he be lost at sea on a ghost ship.

With a heavy sigh, Elizabeth went up the plank that lead onto the frigate, setting her choice in stone.


	7. Persuasion

Port Royal was provincial. At least that's what Lord Cutler Beckett thought. Though he had never been overly keen on staying in one place anyways, and so he thought this might be the reason for his thoughts on it. Since he was sixteen he had been sailing the seas, seeing new places, and new people. It was hard for him to want to stay in one place after seeing so much. There was only one place that he didn't mind stopping for awhile, and that was his estate in London. It was always nice to see family and not be asked to do much of anything, but even after a month there he would itch to get back to the sea. Port Royal was no different in the latter, but worse, his manor house was not yet complete so he lacked a place to relax and even worse, he worked all the time in an office. It was a nice office, but it wasn't adventuring on the sea. There were few parties, not that he had time for parties, and few interesting people. The quiet town had proven to be nothing less than expected. Well, apart the visit from Miss Swann which he thought of every day.

Lord Beckett wished the work that the King had sent him on would lead to the sea. It hadn't yet, for the Kings wishes were for him to stay in Port Royal for the time being. It should have led him to the sea. What good was he for at a desk? There was nothing to do but wait for something to happen. So instead he spent his time making things happen.  
Mister Mercer had returned to Port Royal that morning. For the past month and a half he had been tacking Miss Swann's movements; a fortnight before that morning he spotted her in Tortuga and made his way back to Port Royal. The information wasn't very useful to him, good, but not useful. There was only one person it would mean anything to and was enough to worry him into doing whatever Lord Beckett asked; Weatherby Swann, who had just been brought into the office, shackled. He was only on house arrest, but he didn't look like he was doing well. Wrought with worry for his only child; and that's why this new information would get Lord Beckett what he wanted.

He let the sword he had been examining fall downwards. He found himself more often than ever fidgeting with random objects, trying to entertain himself somehow. A trait that wasn't typical of him.

'There's something to knowing the exact shape of the world and one's place in it,' Lord Beckett said to Weatherby as he used the sword to lean on, before pointing it at the aging man. 'Don't you agree?'

Weatherby Swann lifted out his shackled wrists and ignored what Lord Beckett had said, 'I assure you, these are not necessary.'

'I had you brought here because I thought you'd be interested in the wherabouts of your daughter,' Lord Beckett said, choosing to also ignore what he had to say. Though he knew Elizabeth wouldn't be pleased knowing that her father was in shackles, Lord Beckett felt that he had done enough by sparing him a stay in the prison. That was unimportant at the time anyways, Lord Beckett was beginning his manipulation of Weatherby Swann by way of his precious daughter, whom he was only gallantly keeping an eye over.

'You have news of her?'

'Most recently seen on the island of Tortuga, then left, in the company of a known pirate, Jack Sparrow. And,' Mister Mercer spoke while looking through a large golden telescope, 'other fugitives from justice.'

'Justice, hardly.'

'Including the previous owner of this sword. . . I believe.' Lord Beckett placed the sword back into it's case. It was the sword of James Norrington, and Lord Beckett knew that he would be lying to himself if he said that it didn't bother him that Miss Swann was accompanied by yet one more fiancé. 'Our ships are in pursuit, justice will be dispensed by cannonade and cutlass, and all manner of remorseless pieces of metal. I personally find it distasteful to even contemplate the horror facing all those on board. Of course. . .' he closed the case and looked towards Weatherby. 'I have notified the company that Miss Swann is to be spared of all harm, out of the good of my heart,' his voice was cold and devoid of all care, though it was true what he said, it was only a lie that it was out of the good of his heart. 'But I do fear that my word is not as powerful and widespread as the Kings, and I wonder what might happen should she meet those with another idea. Even with my pardon, she has surrounded herself with fugitives who will not be spared. What is one among many? Not much to spare. . . and I dread to think of her reputation if she were to return to Port Royal. It seems that she is certainly doomed either way.'

Weatherby looked down at his hands, knowing that what was said for his daughter was true. 'What do you want from me?'

'Your authority as governor, your influence in London, and your loyalty to the East India Trading Company,' Lord Beckett was quick to list off his desires as he strode across the room.

'To you, you mean.'

Lord Beckett chose not to agree with that correction, though it was true. 'And then there is the safety and happiness of your daughter when she chooses to return. I would be willing to assist in salvaging what little is left to her good name, with your permission.' he didn't say exactly what he wanted, but it was heavily implied.

'My daughter would never agree-'

'I think you'll find that when you ask her, she might,' Lord Beckett gave a sick smile. 'She and I get along very well.'

Weatherby furrowed his brow in worry. A fight against himself played across his face for he knew Elizabeth's options were low and her future grim.  
'Shall I remove these shackles?'

'Do what you can for my daughter,' he reluctantly agreed.

Mister Mercer came with keys and roughly removed the shackles from his wrists. Weatherby rubbed the sore skin where the heavy iron had rested.

'So you see Mercer every man has a price he will willingly except,' Lord Beckett exclaimed, feeling happy with the days scheme. 'Even for what he hoped never to sell.'

* * *

Elizabeth had been on the Black Pearl for the past fortnight. The compass was still in her possession and she began itching to selfishly leave to retrieve her father. But they were far out at sea and according to Jack, not far from their destination, as the needle of the compass swayed more now with every move the ship made. Elizabeth worried that it was not for the closeness of their destination, but rather for her confusion about what she wanted most in the world. It was a worry she felt better put aside for the time being.

Instead she focused her attentions to Jack, trying to pry information about the compass from him. Surely there was nothing else to it but knowing what you wanted most in the world, but she had to be sure. Of course she wouldn't need the information if she took Davy Jones' chest, but that would be a far more difficult feat and she felt it better that she aimed low to spare herself the disappointment of failure. Besides that, she thought she would feel guilty for taking Jack's compass and the chest, which he must have needed for something. That was, if it even existed and if Lord Beckett truly wanted it. The compass was much more solid payment and her efforts didn't seem so wasted. Elizabeth had tried to flirt with Jack to obtain information about it, but it didn't seem to work, be it for Jack's ignorance or that he didn't want to tell her. And so she instead pulled out the letter of marque meant for him; she highly doubted that it would be of any use given Jack's will to be free and drunk all the days, but it was worth a shot. If she could absolutely get no more information, then she would simply maintain possession of the compass and return to Port Royal when she could. She had been standing at the side of the ship, looking over the letter and contemplating how she might persuade Jack with it, when he came from behind and pulled the letters from her hands.

'How dare you!' Elizabeth remarked hotly as she reached to get them back.

'These letters of marque are meant to go to me, are they not?' Jack coolly retorted as he read through them before suddenly halting his movements. _'Beckett?'_

'Beckett!' Mister Gibbs echoed.

It seemed to Elizabeth that both men were unsettled by the name.

'Yes they're signed,' she explained, trying to calm herself as to not seem so guilty, 'Lord Cutler Beckett of the East India Trading Company.' The name burned her throat and made her cheeks go red, especially his first as her mind went back to their meeting when he had told her to call him by his name. It burnt nearly as much as her pardon, safely resting in her breast pocket, reminding her that she worked for the enemy.

'Blah,' Jack stuck his tongue out in disgust as he read the letters.

'Will was working for Beckett and never said a word,' Mister Gibbs thought out loud, with his grey brows gathered in thought.

Elizabeth went to defend Will, to say it was to save her, but couldn't think of the right words without incriminating herself.

'Ah.'

'Beckett wants the compass,' Mister Gibbs continued. 'Only one reason for that.'

'Of course,' Jack sounded worried as he gazed out onto the horizon. It seemed he was always watching out for something. 'He wants the chest.'

'Yes he did say something about a chest,' Elizabeth tried to contribute to the conversation, without eluding too much.

'If the company controls the chest, they controls the sea!'

'A truly discomforting notion, love.'

'And bad!' Mister Gibbs continued in a way that Elizabeth would call dramatic. 'Bad for every mothers son what calls himself pirate!' He studied the ripped black sails of the ship. 'I think there's a bit more speed to be coaxed from these sails. Brace the foreyard!' He sped away, shouting orders.

Elizabeth wasn't worried about Lord Beckett catching up. He already had, for she was on the ship with the compass.

'Might I enquire as to how you came by these?' Jack questioned her in an inculpating tone as he stepped towards her.

She held her chin high and slit her eyes, unwilling to be caught out. 'Persuasion,' she said.

Jack still walked towards her and she continued stepping back.

'Friendly?'

'Decidedly too friendly.'

'Will strikes a deal for these and upholds it with honor,' Jack continued. 'And yet you are the one standing here with the prize.' Jack waved the letters before reading them. 'Full pardon, commission as a privateer on behalf of England and the East India Trading Company. As if I could be bought for such a low price.'

Elizabeth waltzed after him as he tucked the letters away into his pocket. Of course she could let him have them; they were signed, but it was only a copy. But she felt that she no longer had any leverage to make him tell her about the compass, or to give her the compass should he ask for it back at some point. 'Jack, the letters, give them back.'

'No,' he stopped walking, nearly causing Elizabeth to run into him. 'Persuade me.'

She stepped closer to him and lowered her voice. 'You do know that I know how to handle a sword?'

Jack let out a breathy laugh and turned on his heel to face her. 'As I said. Persuade me. Perhaps rather like you persuaded Lord Beckett.'

Elizabeth's cheeks flushed an angry shade of scarlet and her smug expression fell. For Jack had correctly guessed what she had done to get what she wanted and asked that she do the same for him. She didn't know how to respond and felt that her sudden shift in color had called her out. There was nothing left for the conversation but to stalk away, feeling defeated and embarrassed. She retreated to the side of the ship and watched the Caribbean blue water as it gracefully passed below, trying not to think of the humiliation that had just occurred. Jack's implication of what she had done to persuade Lord Beckett brought her mind back to that night so long past. She couldn't believe that a month and a fortnight had so quickly gone by. It had been some time since she had become so clad for him, since he kissed her, and had her begging for him to take her. . . A smile crept across her face as she thought about the way they had laid together wordlessly for an hour before finally deciding to part ways for the night.

'It's a curious thing,' James interrupted her thoughts, causing her to flinch, 'there was a time when I would have given anything for you to look like that while thinking about me.'

Once more, she felt called out. 'I don't know what you mean.'

'Oh I think you do,' there was something oddly knowing about James's voice. A familiar smugness. But there was no way he knew who she was really thinking about; Elizabeth deduced that he spoke of Jack, since she had already made him aware of her lack of relationship with Will.

'Oh don't be absurd,' she dismissed his accusations. 'I trust him that's all.'

James snickered as he pushed himself away from the railing where he had leaned. 'So you never wondered how your _latest_ fiancé ended up on the Flying Dutchman in the first place?'

Elizabeth shot him a wrathful glare for the way he had said, _'latest.'_ It was said as if Will was the latest of hundreds of men to fall into her grasps. With no answer from her, James strode away with a shake of his head.

Though James had brought about a question that did warrant more scrutiny than she had given. How had Will ended up there? Elizabeth was stunned that she hadn't asked herself the question sooner. Worse, she knew the answer. This was the scheming of Jack Sparrow. She pulled the compass from the leather it hung from at her hip. _'I want to know who sent Will to the Flying Dutchman.'_ As quickly as the thought crossed her mind, the needle of the compass changed position, pointing directly at Jack, who stood unknowingly at the helm, looking through a telescope. Her jaw tightened in anger. She had known he was up to something! And that something made her journey much longer and could have killed Will, the very thing she was trying to avoid! Not to mention if not for him, she could have been back in Port Royal to free her father weeks prior! It was the latter that made her most angry. Jack wanted to find the heart and was willing to risk Will's life and the life of anyone else at the wrong end of his plan.

Elizabeth seethed and gave a cold glare at the back of Jack's head, wishing looks could kill. She shut the compass harshly and stormed across the deck, knowing now what she was going to do with little guilt at all. Jack had put himself in range of her cannon-like revenge. Her feet quickly carried her to the bow of the ship, where James stood, drinking a bottle of rum.

'I need to speak to you,' she muttered through gritted teeth as she harshly grabbed ahold on his dirty coat, pulling him out of sight.

James followed her, still trying to drink his rum, unquestioning what she meant.

When she felt them safely out of sight and out of hearing range, she spoke. 'Lord Cutler Beckett has sent me here. I am to fetch Jack's compass, which I have, and in return he has pardoned me. If I successfully return, I free my father.'

'Yes you told me this,' James nodded passively as he took another swig of rum. It was the last of the bottle.

Truthfully Elizabeth had thought he must have been too drunk to remember and felt it worth repeating. 'Yes but I know now something that Lord Beckett wants more, what he wants the compass to find,' she said, causing enough interest in James that he abandoned trying to get the last few drops of alcohol and watched her curiously. 'The chest of Davy Jones. If we were to return to Port Royal with it, we would be given anything that we may ask for. My father would be free and you may be given your position back James! It could mean us both redeemed!'

James looked as if in deep thought. 'Yes, but you also came to save Turner. How do you do that once back in Port Royal?'

'Whoever possesses the chest, possesses the leverage to command Jones to do whatever he or she wants,' she quoted what Jack had told her of it. 'Once we return to Port Royal, I shall simply ask Lord Beckett to demand that Jones frees Will and then Will shall be sent away as a privateer. All will be as it should for the better. Oh James, you will agree with me, won't you? It's the least I can do for you and I you're the only one here I may trust.' Elizabeth gave a weak smile, trying to force his decision on the matter to fall her way.

James studied Elizabeth for a moment, as if trying to work out the mechanics behind her. It was something he had never figured out. 'What happened to you trusting Jack naught five moments past?'

'Jack only cares for himself,' she admitted bitterly with her lip curled up. 'If not for him, I could have been in Port Royal by now, with my father. I dread to think of him in prison, unknowing where I am. He must be so worried. Will you help me?'

James didn't hesitate. 'I shall.'

WRITERS NOTE

Thank you for reading! xxx

I know 100% where this is going and am super excited to finish so that I can move on to a story that will be taking place after this!


	8. The Promise of Redemption

Isla Cruces came closer and closer with each row of the oars.

Elizabeth had heard of the island from a book that she had taken an interest in when she was younger. It was a haunted place, cursed by the death and plague that had rotted upon it. She would be lying if she said she wasn't apprehensive about stepping foot onto the island; even from afar something dark about it could be felt. It was as if all the eyes of the dead watched them make their slow approach, willing them to turn back. It sent a chill down her spine. But she had far more on her mind. Between she and James, they hadn't thought up a fool proof plan. They hadn't really thought of any plan, for it was not two hours later that they had found the island. And what little drabbles of plans they had formed had many glaringly obvious holes that could cause chaos for the both of them. So they planned to wing it instead.

The two turncoats sat side by side, sharing frequent uncomfortable glances at one another, as Pintel and Ragetti argued about what the tentacled beast that had it's eyes set on Jack was called. Elizabeth usually found their arguments entertaining, but she was at such unease that her mind hardly processed their words. She willed her mind to process anything; a sudden plan that came from nowhere would be fantastic. All her hope rested in James to think of something brilliant.

All too quickly the group found themselves pulling the long boat onto the white sand of the cursed island. Jack instructed Pintel and Ragetti to mind the boat and handed James a shovel. After one more desperate glance at James, Elizabeth followed Jack, who was quick to check the needle of the compass that she held and was already ten feet ahead. They walked, and walked, and walked. They walked across beaches, through the shallow waters, and across more beaches as Elizabeth occasionally shouted to Jack to change direction ever so slightly.

Elizabeth stopped and shook the compass, wondering if the bloody thing even worked. James stopped behind her.

'I wouldn't expect anybody to be here,' James mused as he looked at a small crumbling church perched upon a hillside.

'There's not,' Elizabeth informed.

'Do you know this place?'

'Stories,' she breathed. 'Isla Cruces. The church came to the island and brought salvation. . . and disease. And death. They say that the priest had to bury everybody one by one. He went mad and hung himself.'

'Better mad with the rest of the world than sane alone,' James said as he repositioned the shovel on his shoulder.

Jack approached them. 'No fraternizing with the help, love.' He swung out his arm, gesturing for her to walk ahead.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and moved on, compass in hand. She walked another fifty feet and the needle spun backwards. She turned around and within a few steps, it did it once more. Again she turned around, causing it to twitch; this time it pointed to Jack, who stood gazing out at the sea. Elizabeth cringed and shook the compass, but it still pointed towards him. She gave up, retiring to the ground.

'This doesn't work,' she snapped irritably. It was terribly hot and the white sand was too bright for her eyes. She wanted to give up. 'And it certainly doesn't show you what you want most.'

Jack leaned over to see what was on the compass. It pointed at Elizabeth. 'Yes it does,' he said. 'You're sitting on it.'

'Beg your pardon?'

'Move' Jack shooed her away and whistled for James to come with the shovel.

Elizabeth scrambled to her feet.

James began digging where she had sat. He brought up pile after pile of white sand. Elizabeth chewed her lip nervously, wondering what their plan would be once the chest was dug up. Occasionally James looked back at her to give her a dubious stare, as if to check if she had come up with anything. Elizabeth shook her head ever so slightly to say no each time.

 _Thud_

The iron shovel hit something hard beneath the sand. The trio peaked into the hole. After a few brushes with their dirty hands, it was clear. They had found the chest. Or, a chest. Elizabeth wasn't entirely convinced that it was the chest. It looked rather ordinary in her opinion. Certainly not what she imagined as the chest of Davy Jones, the wretched cacodemon of the seas, bringer of death and destruction. It was similar to a simple chest kept under her bed, full to the brim with bric-a-brac. There seemed to be nothing sinister about it.

Jack took the shovel from James and busted opened the latch on the side. Inside were old letters, very old, and dried flowers. It reminded Elizabeth of all the letters and flowers she had kept from James when she was younger. She took one of the yellowed papers and read it.

 _My love,_

 _I hope the wind blows you back to me soon. I long to be with you, to hear your kind voice and to feel your warm embrace once more. I hurt without you. For I do not know who I am when you're not near. Will you ever return to-_

A smaller chest, which Jack had pulled from the larger, distracted Elizabeth from the love letter. This chest seemed a much better contender for housing something so ominous. They each put an ear to the chest, trying to hear the beating heart.

 _Thump thump._

Elizabeth pulled her head away from the chest in shock. A chill went down her spine. 'It's real?'

The heart thumped again.

'You actually were telling the truth,' James said, awestruck at the fact.

'I do that quite a lot, you people are always surprised.'

 _'I wonder why,'_ Elizabeth thought sarcastically.

'With good reason!' a voice came from behind the group.

It was Will. Elizabeth's stomach did flips when she looked his way. Cool pangs of guilt whipped through her body. She felt dreadfully shameful. All she could whisper was, 'Will,' and it didn't sound as happy as she hoped. It sounded more like she wanted to vomit from the unexpected stress. She tried to flash a smile, but the guilt was plastered all over her face, from her raised brows to her pierced lips and to the way she was frozen on the ground, unable to make herself approach him. And yet the meeting wasn't as difficult as she had intended; she thought he would try to kiss her or at least tell her that he missed her and that she would have to tell him the truth or painfully lead him on. But Will didn't even approach her, which stung her pride like a whip from the leather cat.

'How did you get here?' Jack questioned.

Elizabeth was relieved for Jack's words, finally letting go of the breath she was holding, when Will's eyes went from her to Jack.

'Sea turtles mate,' Will joked as he approached. 'A pair of them strapped to my feet.'

'Not so easy, is it?'

'But I do owe you thanks Jack-'

'-you do?'

'After you tricked me onto that ship to square your debt with Jones,' Will announced, calling Jack out proudly for his ill-doings.

Elizabeth stood and looked everywhere but Will. She wasn't glad to have to face him, but she was glad that he was calling out Jack. His confirmation of what Jack had done made her angry, but she didn't want to engage in the conversation. It fueled the flames of her revenge.

'I was reunited with my father.'

'Oh, well, you're welcome then,' Jack smiled cheerfully.

'So it's true,' Elizabeth faced Jack. 'Everything you said to me, every word was a lie?' She wanted to hear it from Jack before she and James took the chest.

'Pretty much,' Jack clapped his hands together, 'time and tide, love - _Oi!'_ Jack shouted as Will dropped to his knees by the small chest. 'What are you doing?'

'I'm gonna kill Jones,' Will nearly put a key into the chest, but Jack pulled a sword to him.

'Can't let you do that William,' Jack pushed the sword closer. 'Because if Jones is dead, who's to call his terrible beastie off the hunt, aye?'

Elizabeth eyed James. Perhaps the discord was their perfect opportunity. As Will reluctantly rose to his feet, James gave her a small nod.

'Now, if you please,' Jack put out his hand, 'the key.'

Suddenly Will took Elizabeth's sword that had hung at her hip. She gasped, but didn't argue. This was just the kind of distraction they needed.

'I keep the promises I make Jack!' Will held the sword firmly in Jack's direction. 'I intend to free my father. I hope you're here to see it.'

James pulled out his sword and faced it to Will. 'I can't let you do that either. So sorry.'

'I _knew_ you'd warm up to me eventually,' Jack smiled before James moved his sword towards him.

'Lord Beckett desires the contents of that chest,' James omitted, sending Elizabeth's eyes wide. 'I deliver it, I get my life back.'

Elizabeth looked down at her feet, hoping that it wasn't obvious that the only way James would have had that information, was if she had told him. She heard his attempt at making it sound a plan solely of his own mind, but she still felt Jack's eyes suspiciously wonder her way. The tension hung thickly in the air.

'Ah- the dark side of ambition,' Jack said in a matter-of-fact tone. Elizabeth felt that the words were meant for her as much as they were for James.

'Oh I prefer to see it as the promise of redemption,' James retorted. He suddenly lunged at Will with a grunt and the fight was on.

The three men were away, and all Elizabeth could do, with no sword, was hope that her partner wouldn't be killed. Especially now when he had brazenly sold her out along with himself. With swords flying it was difficult to see what was going on, but she thought she saw Jack grab the key to the chest. James kicked Will in the chest, sending him to the ground. She felt there was only one thing she could do.

'Will!' she went to her knees to see if he was alright.

'Guard the chest!' He commanded as he stood and ran off.

Elizabeth scrambled over to the chest containing the still beating heart. She took the compass that sat beside it and shoved it into her pocket. If only she had they key, the job would be done. But she didn't so she heaved the chest upwards and held it to her chest. Where was she to take it? To the long boat? She couldn't leave James and they would be caught in no time at all anyways. So she followed after the fight, trying to shift it's current agenda, which seemed to be slicing one another to bits, which was the least bit useful.

'This is barbaric!' she shouted as she tried to keep up. 'This is _NO_ way for grown men to settle-' they weren't listening to her, only drifting further away as she struggled to keep up with the chest in her arms. ' _OH FINE!_ Let's just _pull_ out our swords and start _banging_ away at each other! _THIS WILL SOLVE EVERYTHING!_ ' Still, they swung their swords, completely ignoring her. 'I've had it! I've had enough of wobbly-legged, rum-soaked, _PIRATES_!' She dropped the chest and began throwing stones and shells and the trio of men, shouting at them to stop between breaths. 'ENOUGH!' There was only one thing left she could do. It was an old trick, but there was no way they could resist it. 'Oh!' Not a look was given her way, so she raised her voice and put the back of her hand to her head dramatically, ' _Oh_! The heat!' Elizabeth pathetically threw herself to the ground, waiting for one of the men to come to the rescue. She peeked out of one eye to see that they continued fighting, not bothered by her lifeless body laying near by. With her mouth gaping in shock for their rude behaviour, she sat up, put her hat back on, and crossed her arms angrily.

Her anger was to be short lived, as she heard passing footsteps. It was Pintel and Ragetti, carrying away the chest and snickering. Elizabeth stood and chased after the two, but had quickly fallen behind. She took another route through the forest, with eyes on the idiots the entire time, hoping to catch them off guard. The bells of the church began ringing, causing them to stop out of curiosity in a clearing. Her chance had come; she sprang into the grassy circle. The smiles faded from Pintel and Ragetti's faces and one rose to hers. She reached for the sword at her hip, but there was nothing there. Elizabeth smiled widely, and dropped her hands, as if she hadn't been reaching for a weapon to use against them. They both smiled and dropped the chest as they drew their swords.

'Hello poppet,' Pintel's slimy voice croaked.

Elizabeth backed up as they advanced, but all of their attentions were paused by a strange sight. A large waterwheel came rolling by, with James and Will fighting atop of it. Shortly following the wheel was Jack, trying to keep up the pace. Pintel and Ragetti momentarily forgot their intentions and gave one another confused glanced. But it didn't last long. Pintel shrugged and they stepped towards Elizabeth once more, but this time they were stopped by an axe, which just missed her head, and embedded itself in one of the coconut palms. They all three turned to see a group of sea creature covered men, if they could hardly be called men, crashing through the bushes and coming towards them. Pintel and Ragetti handed Elizabeth their swords and slowly backed away until picking up the chest and running from the way they had come. Elizabeth ran after them.

'Come on poppet!' Pintel shouted.

Elizabeth shrieked as she heard Jones' men advancing on her. Pintel and Ragetti turned, and in doing so, brought a tree between them, knocking the chest to the ground. The gang of sea creatures was too close to turn back and retrieve it safely. But Elizabeth couldn't give up. She thought of her father as one of the members swung his axe directly at her; thinking quick, she crossed the two swords, stopping the blow. She was determined to fight these men and win.

The trio ran circles around the creatures as a team, trying to make it back to the chest.

'Sword!' Ragetti said as he was tripped by a chain. Elizabeth threw the sword, allowing him to slice open one of the offenders.

'Sword!' Elizabeth said, catching the sword just in time to take out two of the creatures.

'Sword!' Pintel shouted and Elizabeth threw one to him and he used it to fight another, just as she sliced at one of the many others.

'Sword!' she threw hers at Ragetti.

'Sword!' her call was answered with two swords. 'Get the chest!'

They ran, Pintel and Ragetti briefly stopping to pick up the chest as she fought off the creatures that slowly caught up with them. It wasn't long before they made it to the beach, but they didn't stop running. At the water they spotted Jack at the long boat. Elizabeth fought a few others off as they slowly made it away, and just as her opponents grew to be too many, the waterwheel came crashing through, taking down several and nearly herself. But there were still two to be had, which proved to be far more skilled than the others. She swung away, but it seemed to be of no use. She fought hard and it wasn't slowing them down.

'Elizabeth,' James said as he stepped in to assist her. 'I have it. But Jack thinks he has it in the jar.'

Elizabeth was glad to see her ally alive and to know that they possessed the heart. She almost couldn't contain her smile. They fought together, slowly backing towards the boat. She wished she could ask him what their plan was, for what they would do when Jack inevitably checked to make sure he was still in possession, but the others stood not far behind. It was something they would speak of back at the pearl. A thud drew her attention back; Will lay unconscious over the side of the long boat.

'Will!' she exclaimed as she went to check on him.

'Leave him lie!' Jack commanded. 'Unless you plan on using him to hit something with.'

They were surrounded by Jones' cronies.

'We're not getting out of this,' she said to James more than to Jack.

'Not with the chest,' James said. 'Into the boat.' He reached over and took the chest by a handle and then grabbed her arm.

'You're mad,' she said worriedly, unknowing of what he was going to do.

'Don't wait for me,' and he was off, running with the chest, already drawing their enemies away.

'I- I say we respect his final wish,' Jack blurted out.

'Aye!' Pintel agreed.

With that, Elizabeth reluctantly clambered into the longboat with her fellow crewmates. She watched as James ran, willing for him to get away unscathed. Her only hope was that it was a part of some brilliant plan that he had. At least she knew that the heart wasn't inside of the chest; James could hand over the chest, or drop it, and not be bothered by the creatures anymore. It was a big decision to make, but she it was easy. When they returned to the pearl, she would find a way to sneak off and she would retrieve James. Could they make it back to Port Royal by long boat? She doubted it. But they would have the compass and she hoped that would be enough.

The boat moved quickly away from the cursed island, with all members but one eager to get away. Soon they were in the shadow of the Black Pearl, heavy Will's limp body up the side. It wasn't long that they were aboard, probably only a few moments, when a giant ship rose from the abyss. Will had only just had time to be awoken. Elizabeth gasped and backed away from the edge of the Pearl.

'Oi! Fish face!' Jack yelled from the bridge, causing everyone aboard to sigh. 'Lose something, ey?' He held the jar of dirt above his head, which Elizabeth knew held nothing, before tumbling down the stares.

'Oo,' Mister Gibbs winced along with everyone else.

'Got it!' Jack showed that he still held the jar as he stood. 'Come to negotiate, have you? You slimy git! Look what I got!' Jack strode proudly across the deck, confidence spewing from him as he taunted Davy Jones. Elizabeth knew this was because he thought he had the heart, but he was mistaken thanks to she and James' schemes. 'I got a jar of dirt, I got a jar of dirt, and guess what's inside it.' He sung a sing song and held the jar above his head once more.

The large gun ports, which looked like the gaping mouths of spirits, opened, revealing large cannons which protruded far out of the side of the Flying Dutchman. Jack's taunting had gone too far.

'Hard to starboard,' Jack mumbled, almost as if questioning himself.

'Hard to starboard!' Elizabeth yelled at Mister Gibbs, who stood at the helm.

'Brace up the foreyard!' Will yelled.

Slowly the Black Pearl turned away, pulling itself away from the worst of the dangerous cannons. Just as they made headway, cannonade rumbled and shook the Pearl as it hit her stern hard. Elizabeth dodged flying bits of wood as she made her way up the stairs to the bridge. The Pearl had already made it some distance from the Dutchman, but it's triple long range cannons proved to be a challenge to escape. But the Pearl was fast, and before long the cannonballs only hit the water behind her stern; they had made it just out of range.

'She's falling behind!' Elizabeth exclaimed, smiling.

'Aye, we're got her!' Mister Gibbs agreed.

Will came up beside the first mate. 'We're the faster?'

'Against the wind the Dutchman beats us, that's how she takes her prey, but with the wind-'

'-we rob her advantage,' Will finished for Mister Gibbs.

The Flying Dutchman dowsed its canvases.

'They've given up!' Marty cheered, sending the rest of the crew into celebrations.

There was some light dancing, cheers, and lots of rum drinking. Elizabeth spoke lightly with Mister Gibbs of their cunning win. The only one aboard the Pearl who was displeased was Will, who stormed forward to speak to Jack. She didn't care, she was happy for the win. For a moment she had lost hope that she may make it back to her father, back to Lord Beckett. . .

A rumble shook the ship, jarring it's movement, and sent all of the crew to the deck, including Jack's jar of dirt, which shattered across the wood, sending glass and sand everywhere. He made a strange noise and rushed to check on the damage to the heart, which Elizabeth knew would be missing. She was more interested in what caused the moment of chaos.

'We must of hit a reef!' one of the many crew members shouted.

Elizabeth worried her brow at the bubbles that were coming to the surface around the Pearl. Were they taking on water?

'It's not a reef!' Will shouted, before harshly grabbing Elizabeth, pulling her from the side of the ship. 'Get away from the rail!'

'What is it?' her voice shook. Sinking or stalled, they could be dead either way.

 _'The Kraken!_ ' Will shouted. 'To arms!'

'All guns, defend the masts,' Mister Gibbs barked at the crew.

'It'll attack the starboard, I've seen it before!' Will pulled out his sword. 'Run out the cannons and hold for my signal!'

Elizabeth ran, shaking, to the other side of the ship. There were more of the bubbles. She had read stories about the Kraken, written by those who supposedly survived an attack. Not many had. But by what she remembered of the words she read so many years ago, the rising air at the sides of the ship were the first sign if the ship had not yet been jarred by it's clutches. She took a steady breath and pushed herself from the side of the ship. _'You have to survive this,'_ she told herself, thinking of her father, who worried for her back home. As she wiped a tear from her eye she grabbed one of the many harpooning spears from a pile. When she returned to the edge of the ship, she saw massive tentacles working their way up it's wooden sides. Slowly but surely they appeared over the edges, sending Elizabeth and the other crew members on the deck stepping back. The Pearl creaked and groaned as the tentacles held a deathly grip on her hull. Elizabeth's boney knuckles went white as she clutched onto the spear, her only protection. They came higher and higher, but the crew waited on Will's command.

'Will?' Elizabeth questioned, wondering if he knew what he was doing. She heard him steadying the crew below, but the tentacles had risen to the ships height. _'Will?'_ The Pearl groaned louder than ever. _'WILL!'_

 _'FIRE!'_

The explosions of all the cannons going off at once sent the ship rocking. A giant tentacle fell, sending Elizabeth crashing to the wooden deck to get out of the way. Her ears rang loudly for all of the explosions that had happened in such short succession. Elizabeth covered her head with her hands as she heard another crash and one more tentacle fell near her, before sliding off of the ship. The Kraken hissed loudly as it pulled it's injured limbs away. The air reeked of burning flesh. As quickly as the attack had begun, it seemed to be over. But Elizabeth wasn't prepared to smile just yet; it didn't feel over, not if what she had read held any truth. The Kraken was a ruthless beast.

'It will be back,' Will confirmed her thoughts. 'We have to get off the ship.'

Elizabeth had been just about to suggest the same, but had spotted the pile of wood that had once been a long boat. Escape wasn't an option, and she realized she also wouldn't be able to retrieve James. 'There's no boats,' she could hardly get the words to pass her lips.

Will stepped forward; Elizabeth knew he would think of something else. For all his faults, being quick on his feet was not one. 'Pull the grates! Get all the gunpowder onto the net in the cargo hold!' He turned and handed Elizabeth a long gun. 'Whatever you do, don't miss.'

Elizabeth gave a firm nod. Really she didn't feel as confident as she tried to look. But she knew she had to be for her fathers sake. She was not going to let him live alone in Port Royal for the rest of his days. 'As soon as you're clear.'

With the gun in hand and a bit of false confidence, Elizabeth stormed across the ship, giving orders to the crew as they rushed about. She was headed towards the bridge, which she figured would be the best place to aim from. But something in the water caught her eye. The something was a long boat, rowing away, with Jack Sparrow aboard. 'Oh you coward,' she hissed to herself with the upmost distaste for the pirate captain.

Once more, the ship jarred. Elizabeth caught herself on some ropes. With a deafening sound, the Kraken shoved its tentacles through every crack and crevice in the ship, weaving in and out, destroying the structure from inside out. Screams filled the air as men were taken in its slimy grasps, and killed by its crushing weight. The ship rocked back and forth, shaking under all the action. Elizabeth struggled to make it across the ship. It was an obstacle course of tentacles, gun fire, debris, and bodies, both dead and alive. She winced as she watched Mister Gibbs try to keep hold of a crew member held by the beast, but he lost the fight. A tentacle wrapped itself around the mast and pulled, sending everyone scattering. Elizabeth stood in front of the captains quarters and pointed the long gun at the net full of explosives, now hanging in mid air, with Will attached by the ankle.

'Shoot!' Will screamed at her. 'Elizabeth shoot!'

Elizabeth's finger was tight against the trigger, ready to shoot. In the moment she didn't think of Will. It hadn't occurred to her that once she pulled the trigger, the explosives would erupt and Will would be dead. It was such an intense moment and all that she could think of was how to kill the Kraken. Just as she moved to pull it, a tentacle grabbed hold of her ankle and pulled her along the deck, though the captains quarters. Elizabeth's fingernails dug into the wet wood as she tried to stop herself from being pulled into her watery grave. She screamed loudly and kicked, even though she knew it was of no use.

Just when she thought it was the end, just before she was ready to think of her father for the last time, an axe came down before her and cut the tentacle away from her ankle. It was Ragetti; Elizabeth knew there was a reason she always liked him. She gave him a short smile and rushed out, back onto the deck. Her long gun was in the hands of another crew member, who was quickly picked up and flung off of the ship. The gun had landed on the bridge; Elizabeth rushed up the stairs, having to go to her knees to take them, as to not be battered by the rocking ship. She reached for the gun, but there was a boot on it. She tried to pry it away before looking up at who it was; through the rays of sun, she could see it was Captain Jack Sparrow.

Elizabeth smiled. She still thought he was a traitor and she didn't feel guilty for stealing the heart, but at least he could shoot, unlike she. He took the gun and aimed at the net of explosives. Just as Will managed to cut himself free, Jack pulled the trigger. In seconds the barrels of gunpowder were lit up, booming, and burning the Krakens tentacles. Elizabeth covered her ears and shut her eyes, unwilling to see what would happen next. But she didn't hear anything crushing, or anyone screaming. She peaked though her long lashes to see the tentacles gone and what was little of the crew left emerging from the fire and debris. Her hand went over her mouth and she stifled a cry in happiness. There was a chance for her yet.

'Captain, orders!' Mister Gibbs, one of the first out of the rubble demanded.

Jack took the stairs quickly down to the midship deck and Elizabeth followed. 'Abandon ship,' he said, handing the gun to Mister Gibbs. 'Into the long boat.'

'Jack! The Pearl!' Mister Gibbs argued.

'She's only a ship, mate,' Jack replied solemnly.

'He's right, we have to head for land,' Elizabeth said. The only land near was Isla Cruces. Despite the destruction, she and James' plan was on track. But she knew that they would never make it through that much water without being detected by the Kraken. Not with Jack.

'That's a lot of open water. . .' Pintel worried and Ragetti agreed.

Will stepped forward. 'We have to try. We can get away as it takes down the Pearl.'

Mister Gibbs nodded. 'Abandon ship. Abandon ship or abandon hope.' He was the first to make the move to get into the long boat and the others followed suit.

Elizabeth's soft brown eyes watched Jack with the intent of a killer. She was not going to be kept from her father, alive or dead. And she certainly wasn't going to feel sorrow for a man who couldn't have cared less for the lives of anyone aboard his own ship. As she had told herself in the carriage before she left her father; she was not going to be the damsel in distress. She had to save herself and this was the only way she could see how. Slowly, Elizabeth matched Jack's pace, watching him as he admired the Black Pearl for the last time.

'Thank you Jack,' her voice was soft and delicate; so far from her intentions.

'We're not free yet, love,' he sighed.

The way he spoke pulled at Elizabeth's heart. She remembered the man, who despite other malicious intent, had saved her from the water on that day that now seemed so long ago. The man who danced around a fire and sang with her. Who had made her laugh and see what life really should be. But she had to harden her heart; a few good deeds didn't make up for all the hardship and hurt he had intentionally brought to those around him while thinking only of the benefit to himself.

'You came back,' she said, stepping closer to him. 'I always knew you were a good man.' She was lying through her teeth. She didn't think he was a good man. He was a bad man who sometimes chose to do good things. Elizabeth gazed into his sunken eyes, still moving closer. Until her soft lips touched his. She kissed him, pushing his body back to the mast, where shackles meant for prisoners hung. Her hand deftly took hold of the iron and clamped it around his wrist. The two parted and Elizabeth gave him a smoldering look of hatred. 'It's after you, not the ship,' she breathed through gritted teeth. 'It's not us. This is the only way don't you see?' her voice trembled and her eyes burned with the threat of tears. Jack wasn't arguing with her, and so Elizabeth didn't know who she was trying to convince that he needed to die. Something told her it was herself. 'I'm not sorry,' she whispered, closing her eyes, unable to look at him when she said it.

When she finally opened them, she he was smiling curiously back at her. _'Pirate,'_ he called her in a hiss.

Elizabeth tightened her jaw and stormed away, unable to cope with what she was doing already. She climbed down to the long boat, already feeling like all eyes were watching her, knowing what she had done.

'Where's Jack?' Will asked, giving her an accusing stare.

'He elected to stay behind to give us a chance,' she forced herself to say. No one responded to what she had said. 'Go!' she commanded, hard faced.

Marty let go of the ropes, setting them free of the Pearl. Elizabeth felt like vomiting as she watched the rope floating in the blue waters. They were off, Pintel and Ragetti moved the oars quickly, desperate to get away from the soon to be sinking ship. Elizabeth watched as once more, the giant tentacles embraced the ship. It made quick work of the Pearl this time, crushing it's wooden hull in it's grasps. In a matter of moments, the ship with black sails was pulled down to the crushing abyss, with it's captain with it. Elizabeth stifled a sob with her hand as she thought of what she had done. She told herself over and over again that there was no other option; that she had helped more than she had hurt. It was for the good of the many and not the few.

 _'Father, Will, James, Mister Gibbs, Marty, Cotton, Pintel and Ragetti,'_ she repeated in her mind. _'All those lives for one.'_

For the second time that day, the long boat found itself approaching Isla Cruces. Elizabeth eyed the ruins of the church once more and hoped that James had gotten away safely. Their approach had slowed, as none aboard were worried about the Kraken coming to sink their little boat in three feet of water. But with no sign of James on the beach, Elizabeth felt her stomach balling up with each passing moment. The urge to know his fate became too great for her to wait; she went over the side of the boat and into the clear water that rose to her waist.

'Where are you going?' Will demanded to know of her.

With a short glare, she pushed through the water until she reached the dry sand of the beach. It wasn't far from the spot they had departed from. Her eyes scanned the tree line, trying to spot him. 'James!' she yelled, her voice cracking from all the shouting she had done that day. 'Commodore Norrington!' There was no answer, save for the singing birds in the distance and the hums of cicadas. Elizabeth ran up the beach in the towards the spot where she had last seen James disappear into the forest. Her boots sloshed with sea water, slowing her steps. She kicked them off in a fit of anger, enabling her to run freely. 'James!' She made her way to the edge of the forest and screamed for him again.

There was only silence. Elizabeth threw her back against a coconut palm and slid to the ground, uncaring how its rough surface scratched her back. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed in defeat. After a few moments, footsteps approached. Without looking up, she assumed it was Will, who she didn't want to speak to for a handful of reasons. She didn't want to speak to anyone. 'Go away,' she dismissed.

'Elizabeth,' it was James. 'I saw the Pearl go down. Who's with you? Does Jack know that the heart is missing?'

Elizabeth shot up from her pathetic state. She didn't know what to say; she was happy, and sad, and every other emotion she had ever felt. It was all too much, and she could only shake her head. Where would she begin? How where they going to get back to Port Royal? What would happen when she was inevitably found out for all she did?

'James,' she whispered. 'I've done something terrible.' It was only when the words passed her lips that it truly occurred to her the calamity of what she had done.

Before James could respond in any way, Elizabeth vomited on his boots.

WRITERS NOTE

SO this is a much longer chapter than I would usually do. && I have received a few messages usually asking 'WHERE'S THE BECKABETH AT?' I did say this would be a slow burn. Real slow. (which I know can be annoying to read, but that's also why I have tried to update so often, rather than once a week) As a person who writes often, and not fanfiction, I can't do a story without all the explanation. As much as I can enjoy fanfic with little context to anything, I cannot write it. I like having all the details and I liked the original POTC story, hence the reason I'm doing more of a 'what we didn't see' kind of style and altering conversations and thought processes' to my liking. I also typically write realism, and in the real world when lovers have oceans between them and it's the 18th century, there's really no way they would have contact often. HOWEVER. . . Soon that will all change.

SPOILER ALERT:

Next chapter will contain beckabeth


	9. Somewhere in the Mist

The long boat floated quietly through a thick ominous mist. It was the early hours of the day, some time before sunrise. Just light enough to admire the eeriness of their surroundings; it looked as if their craft floated among the clouds of the night sky. It was a good sign. At least that's what James thought. Mister Gibbs had another idea about the mist.

'Mist only gathers around land,' James had informed the small group. 'If only we could see the land through the mist.'

'Neigh,' Mister Gibbs argued. 'Bad luck it is. Mark me words.'

Elizabeth paid no mind to the arguments that the men she shared space with. It seemed for the past fortnight it was all they did. Though she couldn't blame them, she had grown just as bored, but had a lot more to think about than she had to say. The few stops that they had made on small islands didn't seem to cure their restlessness, for they had only come across uninhabited disappointment to pick fruit from trees and bushes to eat. Usually they stopped for a handful of hours, but a week before the misty morning they had to stop for two days to wait out a storm, for their little boat couldn't handle much. Elizabeth had spent most of her time since then staring at the compass and very rarely having to use her voice to tell whoever was rowing at the time to change direction.

While the men argued about the good or bad of the mist and what it meant either way, Elizabeth laid curled up at the bow of the little boat. With her face rested against the uncomfortable cool wood, she held the compass in one hand and let her fingers skim the surface of the dark smooth water. She had her sunken brown eyes, tired from weeks with little sleep, focused on the mist as it parted for the bow of the boat, cascading to each side in the most beautiful way. For hours she had remained that way, only moving to occasionally check the compass and to pet Cottons parrot, who had also taken a liking to the bow of the boat. From time to time she checked that the beating heart in her pocket was still there, though she could feel it all the time. James had insisted that she take it, being more trusted by the others than he.

 _'Yo ho, yo ho, a pirates life for me,'_ she softly sang, before humming the tune quietly to herself.

All the time to think had allowed Elizabeth to reflect on what she had done. The more she thought about it, the less she felt remorseful for what she had done. Her mind envisioned the sight of the selfish pirate rowing away in his long boat, leaving his own faultless crew to a torturous end, time and time again. Because of his dealings and failure to uphold those dealings, more than half of his crew died and Elizabeth doubted that he cared. When the nauseating feelings of guilt did creep into her thoughts, she remembered this, and admired what little crew was left with her in the long boat. They didn't deserve death, and thanks to her they had been saved.

What Elizabeth hadn't given any thought to was if anything lurked in the dark water. She dipped her hand in further, gathering a small pool of salt water in her palm and then let it seep through her fingers. Again and one more time she dipped her hand in, when suddenly something cold and wet held it in its grasp. Elizabeth let out a choked scream as she tried to pull her hand from the black water. The rest of the boat erupted into questions and tried to attend to her, without tipping the boat. She pulled as hard as she could; it didn't hurt, but it wouldn't let her go. Elizabeth mustered the courage and peeked over the edge of the boat as she pulled, terrified to know what had ahold of her. It was a hand, pale and cold, adorned with tattoos and rings that she recognized. It was the ghostly hand of Jack Sparrow. She screamed again. Just as she saw it, Ragetti held out a lamp over the side, and the hand let her go, disappearing into the water without a trace.

'What was it Miss Elizabeth?' Mister Gibbs was the first to ask. Even his tan leathery skin seemed pale with fright.

Elizabeth inspected her hand, but there seemed to be no damage. Ragetti, the nearest to her besides James, took her hand and looked at it as she stared at it with wide eyes. She couldn't speak. The image of the cold dead hand around hers was burned into her mind.

'There ain't no bites,' he informed before wiping it on his coat.

'Elizabeth,' Will called to her. 'What's happened? What was it?'

'A hand,' she muttered, brown eyes still fixated on her hand. 'It-,' she struggled to speak. 'It was Jacks hand-' her voice sounded calm, but she was anything but. Her heart pounded hard against her boney chest and her limbs shook, high from fear coursing through her veins.

Elizabeth moved away from the bow of the boat, trying to get away from the edge. Was it repressed guilt, eating her alive, or was Jack trying to drag her to the same abyss she had damned him to? She felt certain it was the latter, knowing without doubt what she saw. Ghosts were real, as all aboard the boat knew very well.

'Aye,' Mister Gibbs agreed, 'a tormented soul he be. Unable to rest.'

Will sighed loudly from the stern. 'Doubtful. We've all been sleepless for weeks- and hungry. You only imagined it.'

'I know what I saw!' Elizabeth snapped, her voice cut through the silence of the darkness around them. Her eyes were wide, crazed by what she had just seen and unwilling to be told that she hadn't.

James put his arm around Elizabeth's shoulder to reassure her. 'I'm sure you do, but we all need to calm down for now. Indeed we are all very tired.'

But she was too overwrought to listen to reason. 'It had his tattoos, the rings,' she insisted, shaking her head. 'He wants me dead-'

 _'Elizabeth?'_ ghostly words came from the fog.

All but one on the boat froze in fear. Elizabeth stood, shaking the boat, to peer over the mist. Her eyes searched desperately, but all she could see was grey. Again, she heard the voice call her name. She could hear it, but who it sounded like eluded her.

'Did ye here it?' Mister Gibbs whispered.

Ragetti moved closer to James, away from the edge of the boat. 'It's the spirit of Jack, come back to 'aunt us for accepting his sacrifice!'

'Enough of this,' Will barked. 'Enough! This is ridiculous!'

 _'Y- YOU'RE BEING RIDICU-'_ Elizabeth's voice cracked, before she was distracted by a golden glow emerging in the mist.

 _'Elizabeth!'_ It was a voice she knew. The voice of her father.

'It's my father. That's my father!' she put her foot onto the wooden bench, trying to peer higher, looking into the golden mist. Soon it was apparent what they had come across. It was a giant man of war; its stern was lit with lanterns, just as the entire ship was. _'FATHER!'_

'It's the Dauntless,' James said, pointing at the detailed lettering at the back. It had once been a ship of his fleet. Using Elizabeth for balance, he stood with her. 'We're near Port Royal.'

 _'COME ABOUT!'_ a booming voice called. Both Elizabeth and James recognized it.

 _'GROVES!'_ James shouted back.

They could now see figures leaning over the railing of the large ship, but they couldn't see who they were with the mist and lanterns creating a strange veil.

'Commodore?' the voice was more quiet now, questioning himself. Muttering came from the ship.

'Elizabeth are you there?' It was indeed her father.

'I'm here father, I'm here,' she sobbed, letting tears of joy run freely down her face. 'Help us up!'

Their little boat drifted towards the beast.

'I don't like this,' Pintel made his discomfort known. The other men nodded in agreement.

'Don't worry,' Elizabeth turned to the group. 'On my word, you shall have a ship of your own in the morning. My father will make sure of it.' It was really Lord Beckett who would make sure of it, once she had given him the heart, but that was better left unsaid.

A rope swung down over the planks used to climb aboard the ship. Elizabeth was the first to take hold of the rope, climbing eagerly up the wooden hull, followed by James. At the top a hand, this one warm and alive, pulled her up. It was Private Murtogg, who gave Elizabeth a smile. She couldn't help but hug the familiar man. A hand on her shoulder drew her attentions away.

It was her father, who wrapped his arms around her. Elizabeth buried her face into his neck and cried in relief. She breathed in his familiar scent. She was home and after all the destruction, all would be well. James would get his life back, Will would no longer have to be tied to her, the crew would get their own ship, and her father would be free. But wait- what was he doing, already free, on a ship dressed to the nines as usual? 'What are you doing here?' she questioned. 'Were you not imprisoned?' Oh I was so worried about you.' Her hand went to his cheek.

'You were worried for me? You've been missing for so long, I've had so little news of you-' Weatherby pushed her messy hair away from her tanned face. 'I was only put on house arrest for a short time,' he explained. Something about him suddenly looked under stress. 'Lord Beckett became concerned for you with no news, as did I, and so he planned for me to lead a search party for you while he awaited your return to Port Royal. We are- well, were- due to leave at sunrise. You've come back just in time.'

Elizabeth let a smile cross her face, wet from tears. Lord Beckett had been worried? And enough to send out search parties? Then there was her father, who was in good health and happy. For a moment she forgot all the horrible things that had happened for this moment. But then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Will. His glaring eyes burnt holes in the side of her head.

'Lord Beckett?' he questioned with his eyes slit, much to Elizabeth's dread.

Weatherby saw his daughters eyes dart to the wooden deck and decided to halt the conversation. 'Commodore Norrington,' he said instead. 'Oh come here dear boy, it's so nice to see you.' The aging man put his hand on his old friends shoulder. 'I dread to ask you how you've been. How-' Weatherby spotted the next man to climb up the hull. ' _Joshamee Gibbs?_ Great scot, has my daughter dug up all the ghosts of my past? How have you been?'

Next to come up the hull was Ragetti, followed by Pintel, Marty, and Cotton. This caused a stir.

'I'm sorry sir,' Groves stepped into the gathering. 'Sorry, James. . . These men are _all_ wanted criminals, I really must insist-'

'Oh do what you must, captain,' Weatherby laughed. 'But I do insist that they are given hot food and good drinks. They shall be released tomorrow anyhow, it's only a matter of paper work that I must handle. It is the least I can do for them accompanying my daughter.'

Elizabeth eyed her father suspiciously. It seemed he was covering up her affiliations with Lord Beckett. She wondered why that was or how it was that he knew to do so.

'Well alright, if you would all come with me,' Groves instructed. 'Ready the long boat!'

Mister Gibbs gave Elizabeth a questioning look. She nodded to reassure him. Once he followed Groves, the rest did too. Will followed, still watching Elizabeth curiously. James went last, giving her a nod and a smile.

Elizabeth was left on the deck standing with her father.

'Father I must go speak to Lord Beckett,' she said. 'There is still much I must do.'

'Do you have the compass?' Weatherby asked, to Elizabeth's questioning brow. 'He told me that you two made a deal for it after you fled the carriage- which by the way we _shall_ be discussing young lady. Running off and making deals with men, gallivanting with pirates. . .' he shook his head and crossed his arms across his chest disapprovingly. ' _And_ you're filthy. When was the last time that you bathed?'

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. 'As if you're only now finding out you haven't raised a lady,' she dismissed his trivial worries. 'I do have the compass and something better father. A certain item which Lord Beckett intended to seek out using the compass. The sooner I speak to him, the sooner all goes back to normal.'

Weatherby looked down at his hands. It was a habit Elizabeth knew he exhibited when he was particularly unsettled. 'Well,' he sighed. 'Not all. There has been quite a lot of talk in society about you. I fear that your behavior, though you meant well, has ruined your reputation. I do not believe that any family of good standing may look towards you once more, Elizabeth.'

She opened her mouth to say she didn't care, though she did. Despite all her pirating and wrong doings, she was still raised as a lady and enjoyed the comforts that it brought. And she knew well that her fall from grace meant the fall of her father as well. 'Father, I-'

'Elizabeth,' Weatherby cut her words short. 'I wanted to allow you to chose your own path. I let you deny James, when you knew I would have felt the upmost comfort with the match. You chose William, but- well, even if you have earned his pardon, he shall never be regarded as more than a common criminal. I cannot sit idly by while you are subject to the same abuse as he. So I've, well I-' he cleared his throat and straightened his coat nervously.

'What is it father?'

'You'll be protected under his name, no matter what you have done or what you may chose to do in the future. . .' it seemed like he was reassuring himself. 'I've married you to Lord Beckett.'

* * *

What happened next went by in a blur. Elizabeth didn't know what to think. She vaguely remembered the short journey in the long boat to shore or how she had come to know that the old manor on the cliff was where she was going. Her father had directed her to a carriage, but she had muttered something about walking instead. But then she ran, her father calling after her, words that didn't penetrate her mind. Her feet carried her through the sleepy houses and beyond the edge of town, where the dirt road that lead up to the old mansion began. The milky mist blanketed the ground obscuring her path, but she pressed on, her lungs heaving for more air. Her doe-like eyes searched for the mansion, which should have been visible so far up the path.

Suddenly, she spotted a lone figure in the mist.

'Hello?' her voice cut the silence like a knife.

The figure turned to her, but she couldn't see who it was.

Elizabeth's throat went dry in fear. Whoever it was, or whatever it was, no doubt could see her too. But she tried to push the thoughts away; with what happened on the boat naught thirty minutes beforehand and the creepy moonlit mist, she was certainly frightening herself. Surely it was Lord Beckett; she couldn't have been far from his manor. 'Cutler,' she called out to the figure. There was still no response. With her hand on the sword on her hip, Elizabeth moved forward. 'Cutler I've come back. . . I have something that you want.'

The figure was close now, but still invisible in the mist.

 _'I suspected that young Turner was up to something,'_ it was Jack. Elizabeth's stomach dropped. _'But not you, love.'_

His ghostly presence emerged from the mist, soaking with sea water.

'I'm sorry,' she whispered, stepping back. 'I can't change what I've done. . .'

 _'Ah, but you can,'_ Jack hissed, the familiar crispness was somewhere in his voice, that only could be heard when he was scheming. _'Tia Dalma, she will know. Or. . . you could join me.'_

Jack lunged at her and Elizabeth shrieked. She ran through the mist, unknowing where she was going. Just as she looked back, fearful that she would see the wraith following her steps, she ran into someone, who wrapped their arms around her. Her breath was too quick to scream again, but as she saw this persons face, she sighed in relief. It was Lord Beckett.

He walked her silently into the manor, which had only been a few feet away. They didn't speak, which Elizabeth found strange, though she was too out of breath to speak anyhow. She walked into the entrance hall, which even in the dark seeped grandeur. Lord Beckett shut and locked the two large wooden doors behind her.

'What were you running from?'

Elizabeth shook her head and wiped her eyes. 'Nothing,' she whispered, turning with her arms across her chest defensively.

The two figures stood silently in the dark hall, each waiting for the other to speak. Elizabeth wanted to approach him; she wanted to kiss him and remember why she had been so keen to do his bidding. Had it only been to save her father? She couldn't say it was.

'Are you not pleased to see me, my lord?' her throaty words filled the hall.

Lord Beckett stood in front of the door in a stream of moonlight, so imposing, just as she remembered him. 'As ever,' his ultuous voice sent chills through Elizabeth's body. 'I was worried that you would not return.'

'So I heard. You meant to send a search party, all for me?' Elizabeth took off her dirty coat and let it fall to the marble floor. She should have been negotiating, but she felt that was all she had done for months. For a moment she wanted to forget. 'How gallant of you. Perhaps you should be rewarded for your nobility, my lord.' Her rasping voice made her sound all the more sultry as she subtly flirted.

A small smile curled at the corner of Lord Becketts mouth. 'What do you have for me?'

'I possess an interesting item or two that I think may appease you,' she purred. 'But it is what you have for me that will earn you the items.'

'I was under the impression that I was to be rewarded,' Lord Beckett slowly approached her. 'For being so gallant, as you put it.'

'Yes, and you shall, but I have other ideas for rewarding you for that later,' Elizabeth hadn't said what the reward was, but they both knew well what the reward would be. 'I came here to negotiate.'

Lord Beckett didn't speak. He crossed his arms and eyed her curiously.

Elizabeth brought the compass from her hip and held it up in front of him. 'The compass which points to whatever you want most in the world. For this, I want the crew of the Black Pearl freed and given a ship to sail tomorrow. Letters of marque for Will and I want James to be given the position of Admiral of the fleet.'

Lord Beckett snickered, unable to stop himself. 'Ah, but you see we discussed the terms of our agreement already, did we not? I promised to give Mister Turner his letters of marque and your father his freedom. That is all.'

From the pocket of her waistcoat she brought out a small leather pouch and held it out in her palm. 'I think this should afford me whatever I please.'

The pouch thumped loudly in the silent room. For the first time, Elizabeth admired Lord Becketts face fall into confusion. His brow pulled together as he took her hand in his own and watched the pouch move. 'How-' he couldn't seem to get the words out. 'How did you-'

'Know that you wanted the heart? Or how did I get the heart?' Elizabeth asked proudly. 'Well, you're not as careful with your words as you think. I figured it out as soon as I heard of the chest and what one could do with it's contents. I commissioned the assistance of James Norrington. He and I accompanied Jack, who was also in search of the chest. James stole it and gave it to me for safe keeping, with the knowledge that I could get him his life back.'

'And where is Jack Sparrow?' Lord Beckett asked, seemingly regaining his composure. 'I take it your thieving has displeased him.'

Elizabeth's breath hitched. Although she didn't feel guilty for it, at least she didn't most of the time, it wasn't something that she had spoken of since she found James on the beach at Isla Cruces. 'He's dead.' The words felt like a lie as they passed her lips as ghostly images of Jack floated through her mind. Her hand twitched as she thought about the incident on the long boat.

Lord Beckett eyed her suspiciously. 'May I ask how?'

'No,' she snapped. 'Do we have an accord or not?'

'I suppose we do,' he took the pouch and the compass and placed the items on a wooden side table nearby. 'Now, what did you have in mind for rewarding me?'

 _'Oh,'_ she whispered. 'Did I say I was going to reward you? I'm afraid I'm no longer in the mood.' Elizabeth strode over to the marble stairs, which were blanketed with an expensive carpet run. As she climbed a few stairs she continued, 'Might you send a maid to lead me to my chambers.'

Lord Beckett prowled after her. 'I suggest you refrain from teasing me,' he warned in his aristocratic drawl. He stood just two stairs below.

'Oh? Will you force me, my lord?' Elizabeth was challenging him. A smile which she tried hard to hold back crept across her face. She stepped down a stair, closing the gap between them. 'Force yourself into me and fuck me right here on these stairs where anyone could hear us? I was under the impression that you were a gentleman.'

Lord Beckett seemed as stony as ever, despite the scarlet words that she said to him. 'Well,' he spoke calmly, 'I suppose you were under the wrong impression.'

Elizabeth's doe-like eyes watched him, waiting for something to change. She hadn't been under the impression that he was a gentleman since the night he had taken her virtue, but wanted him to challenge what she had said with more than just words. 'Well,' she spoke equally as calm, 'I don't think I am,' she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. 'Goodnight Cutler.'

Before she could turn to leave up the stairs, only to tease him further, Lord Beckett had his grip painfully around her arm. 'You'll be coming with me to my chambers,' his voice was demanding and husky, sending a shock through Elizabeth's body. 'I care not for your mood or lack of it. Furthermore, I suspect that a-' his icy eyes went up and down her body with a sick smirk- 'scarlet woman, such as yourself, is aching for it after all these months.'

'I suppose you were under the wrong impression,' she echoed his own words, challenging him.

Lord Beckett entrapped her waist in the crook of his arm, pulling her body firmly against his own. His hand deftly went down the front of her trousers. Elizabeth simpered, until his fingers slipped inside of her with ease. Her breathy giggles turned into a suppressed moan. He wiggled his fingers about, sending her limp against him as she chewed her lip. 'If I was under the wrong impression, then why are you so wet for me?' Without an answer, he answered that for her by whisper in her ear, 'You're a liar, Elizabeth.'

Elizabeth pulled his hand from her trousers and pushed herself away from him with a cold, hard glare, trying to prove him wrong. Lord Beckett answered this by pushing her back, sending her backside to the carpeted stairs.

'You're a liar,' she whispered, looking up at him. She didn't bother to rise from the stairs. 'If you weren't, you would have taken me by now.'

Lord Beckett kneeled down, each knee on either side of her hips, holding her against the stairs. His fingers went to the buttons on her waistcoat, before he pulled them apart harshly. The sound of torn clothing pierced the silence of the hall. He moved on next to her lawnshirt, which was far more easily ripped off of her. Elizabeth laid bare, her hands above her head, making no attempt to cover herself. Lord Beckett leaned into her, taking her lips in his own. It was a short kiss, not as passionate as Elizabeth would have liked, but it was amended by his lips moving the distance down her slender neck. Her breath hitched as he took her right breast in his hand and clasped her nipple between his lips. She suddenly felt so exposed.

Elizabeth's throat clicked, dry from her nerves. Her eyes scanned the room, which was already not as dark as first she saw it. Soon the rising sun would bring with it servants and shed light onto their debauchery. A scarlet flush reddened her cheeks as she imagined them being discovered in such a way. Her rosy lips parted, meaning to suggest that they retire to his chambers, or anywhere more hidden than the main staircase, but before she could do so Lord Beckett had taken the front of her trousers in hand and ripped them down the center. Cool air graced the hot junction of her thighs. Her honeyed eyes watched as Lord Beckett pulled down his own trousers just enough to take her. The worries of being caught were suddenly far from her mind as she set eyes on his hardened manhood. Her slender legs parted and intertwined in his own. Their lips met in sudden fervid passion, both suddenly so unwilling to continue playing cat and mouse games. Elizabeth bit hard onto Lord Beckett's lip, emitting a guttural grown from deep within his chest. She tasted the warm copper tinge of his blood as she ran her tongue over the wound that she had caused.

Lord Beckett brought his hand to her throat as his lips left hers. His hot breath was unsteady on her neck. 'You're a vulgar minx,' he hissed in her ear.  
Elizabeth tittered as she brought her hands up his back.

'Should I put you out of your misery?'

'Yes,' she whispered.

'Yes what?'

'Yes,' she repeated, her voice like velvet. 'Yes, your lordship.' Her white teeth flashed as she smiled at her own doltish cantrips.

Lord Beckett pushed himself into her warm centre and Elizabeth cried out. He pulled himself out as he watched her dewy face erupt with pleasure, before thrusting back into her, with as much force as his hips would allow. She moaned in both pain and pleasure, a combination that sent her into an intoxicating daze. Her dirty nails dug into his back as she gasped for hair between the moans being forced from her lips. Lord Beckett groaned loudly into her neck as he quickened his pace, forcing moans louder and more frequently from Elizabeth.

The two bodies continued on, their moans in pleasure slowly ebbing into one steady sound that echoed through the dark and empty entrance hall of the Beckett Manor, unknowing of the trouble that would soon befall them.

WRITERS NOTE:

Again, I apologize for my shotty smut writing. It's something I need to improve on. Also, I know this didn't take super long to write or anything, but I had intended for this to be an easy chapter to write and wanted it to be posted the day following the last chapter, but I had an unexpected bout of writers block. But anyways, thank you so much for reading and I hope the long awaited Beckabeth is worth it! The next chapter should be coming very soon. xxx


	10. The Call of the Sea

Thunder roared fiercely in the distance and brought with it a warm breeze and the smell of damp earth, which drifted through the lush chambers of Lady Elizabeth Beckett. It sent the expensive cream coloured drapes that adorned the open French doors leading to her balcony floating gently around the porcelain tub which she relaxed in. With her head rested over the curve of the elegant bath, she laid in the water, just as she had for hours. The milky rose scented water had chilled since her chambermaids had first filled it, but it was pleasant in the stifling Caribbean heat.

The first three days of married life had treated her well. That afternoon had been no different than the two past, spent relaxing and indulging in all of the pleasures that a life in high society afforded. After months spent at sea, Elizabeth wasted away each day doing all that she had missed, feeling that she was making up lost time. She ate luxurious meals, bathed far more than required, and flipped through the vast amount of books that her new husband owned. For the few days of their marriage, Elizabeth had been left alone in the manor to her own devices. The first day had been pleasant; she had slept through most of it, anyways. On the second her father came for tea, but it was short lived as he too was drawn to work. That afternoon had held no company for Elizabeth and she was becoming quite lonely. The lack of her husbands presence to entertain her was due to a lengthy letter that he had received the very morning of their reunion. It was from the King. Elizabeth didn't know what it said, but whatever it was had certainly sent Lord Beckett's stress levels through their baroque ceilings.

And so with her loneliness came restlessness. Elizabeth itched to join her husband in whatever he was up to. The life of a Lady was pleasant and rewarding, but it certainly wasn't exciting. Despite her husbands agitated mood as he stalked into the dining room every night from a long day of work, Elizabeth envied him. She wished that she had something to draw her mind away from all that plagued her. She thought often of the fate of the crew of the Black Pearl, who had left Port Royal days beforehand. She wondered if Will had accompanied them, or if he was in his blacksmiths shop, cursing her name.

 _Knock knock knock_

Elizabeth breathed a sigh in irritation. She assumed that it was one of her many maidservants come to pester her once more about the aging bathwater that she still sat in. With a roll of her eye, she slid down the porcelain tub back, submerging her tanned shoulders in the milky white water. 'What is it that you want?' Her tone voiced strongly that she did not wish to be disturbed once more.

The golden door handle turned with a metallic click and the large wooden door leading into her airy chambers creaked open.

'Put your claws away, it's me,' answered the voice of Lord Beckett.

With a crocked eyebrow, Elizabeth peaked over the side of the tub at him, her wet hair clinging to her forehead and cheeks, making her look like a madwoman. But a smile played on her lips. 'What are you doing home? You're due to be back in three hours.'

'Well-' Lord Beckett sat in one of her lavender satin chairs near her personal bookshelf and then pulled off his black polished riding boots- 'I was horribly irritated at work and decided I needed a break. And I suspected-' he stood and worked at removing his waistcoat- 'that my wife was in need of attention. And so I've come home early to check on you.'

'Does removing your clothing somehow enhance your ability to check on me?' Elizabeth jested as she watched him struggle with his cravat.

'I was actually rather hoping that you would allow me to lounge about here,' he admitted, finally doing away with the silk cravat, which he tossed carelessly across the room.

Lord Beckett glided across the extravagant carpets that graced the floors of her chambers to the porcelain tub. He sat at the end, resting his crossed arms at it's edge- a lazy way of sitting that Elizabeth noticed was not normal behavior of his when anyone else was around to see it. His gunmetal blue eyes ran the length of her body in the most lewd way. Elizabeth omitted a loud sigh, announcing her want for attention was far from a sexual one. Every hour of her night was filled with that and during the day she preferred his company by conversation. But her shrewish sigh did nothing to interrupt his gaze and his eyes continued to wonder. He bit his lip as he admired her breasts.

'Surely you didn't come home only to ogle me,' Elizabeth remarked, only then drawing his eyes to her face. She could admit that he looked devilishly handsome while admiring her in such a way.

A snicker came from him. 'I could hold a lecherous gaze on you for hours; we can time it, if you like.'

Elizabeth raised a dark brow high. 'I would enjoy your conversation, not your unchaste desires. I have been so bored today.'

A smirk crossed Lord Beckett's features as he rested his head upon his crossed arms. With a tired sigh he retired his attempts. 'A man can dream,' he said, his voice low and relaxed, a far cry from his usual stone cold tone. The tips of his fingers glided across the milky water and up her bruised shin, where he softly drew circles.

 _'Perhaps he could love you too,'_ Elizabeth's mind sounded off as she watched him. It was a thought that she wished were true, but she feared she was only a pretty thing to look at, just like most things in their house. She felt like to him she was more like a coquette, not a wife. It was confusing to her to see him gazing at her in such an affectionate way, for she felt that she would never truly be granted love from him. Her eyes darted towards the balcony, unable to watch anymore without the threat of tears. When she felt that the tears had safely retreated, she spoke, 'You have me,' her voice was but a whisper. 'All of the days and all of the nights. There's no need to dream.'

A sound of acknowledgment was all that came from Lord Beckett. He pulled his hand from her and moved around the tub, moving closer to her. He rested his chin on her shoulder. His nimble fingers ran along her clavicle and then up the delicate skin of her neck, bringing chills to her skin, which she tried not to feel by staring at the stormy clouds just outside.

 _BOOM_

A bright strike of lightening painted the room purple and the thunder shook through the house loudly. Elizabeth had nearly jumped from her skins, her heart suddenly beating furiously. Even Lord Beckett had flinched against her. She had grabbed a tight hold on Lord Beckett's arm, which was wrapped tightly across her torso. A laugh came from her husband and she giggled at herself too. Her head fell back to his shoulder with a sigh.

'Don't worry, I shall protect you from the frightful storm,' Elizabeth whispered teasingly.

Lord Beckett breathed in to speak, but nothing came out. The pitter patter of rain on the stone balcony outside suddenly turned into showers, teeming down relentlessly. It had distracted him from what he was going to say. He stood from where he sat behind her and shut the French doors. Elizabeth watched, as she idly ran her fingers over her clavicle just as he had done, cursing the weather for interrupting the first truly affectionate moment he had granted her. She willed for him to return back to her side, but as she expected he strolled across the room, away from her with his hands behind his back.

'I meant to ask you,' he inspected one of the books that sat on her bookshelf, 'if you might join me at the offices tomorrow. I suspect you shall find it dreary, but it would please me to have you to talk to.'

Elizabeth didn't have to give thought to her answer. 'Yes of course,' she breathed. She could hardly keep the smile from her face; anything done outside of the manor could hardly be dreary. 'Cutler, I-' _I would spend every day with you if only you asked._ That's what she was going to say, but silenced the girlish sentiment before embarrassing herself.

'Yes?'

'Well, I-' she began, 'Well I don't know, actually. I'll be happy to accompany you, that's all.'

Lord Beckett gave a small nod. 'I shall have supper sent here and send your maids to dress you.' He stood close to the door, readying to leave her once more. 'I will be back within the hour.' With that, he left her chambers.

Elizabeth sighed and pulled her knees to her chest. She buried her face in her hands, wanting to scream. For what she did not know or understand.

As he had said, her chambermaids arrived shortly after he left, come to take away the dirty water in her bath and to dress their mistress. Elizabeth went through the usual routine that she had suffered since she was young, allowing too many woman to toss her about, combing her tangled hair and stuffing her into nightclothes roughly. Once they were finished with her, servants brought in a small table and two chairs for supper to be held at. Elizabeth was soon left alone in her chambers. She watched the storm rage on outside, tracing her fingers along the water droplets streaming down the glass panels of the French doors. Lord Beckett returned to her chambers, looking the same as he had when he left, but in his hands he held a crystal decanter of port and a deck of playing cards.

'I don't know how to play,' she had told him.

And so he tried to show her how to play, but Elizabeth lost game after game. She couldn't understand his instructions and felt dim for it. Just before she was about to call it quits, servants interrupted her losing battle with platters and dishes of delicious foods. They ate and chatted about a soiree that was due to be held in a weeks time, by the socialite Lady Worthington in Kingston. Neither could decide if it would be horrible or not; Lady Worthington was a notorious gossip mill and those who attended her gatherings usually found themselves subject to her whisperings. They assumed they were invited for that very reason. Elizabeth knew well that she would be talked about, not that she cared. At least it was free food and drink, and she would have the chance to wear her red brocade silk dress, so it wasn't all bad.

Once they were finished eating, servants returned to clear the table. Elizabeth moved towards her bed, which she flung herself at, landing amongst the pillows. A sigh escaped her lips. She felt the bed shift as Lord Beckett joined her. She rolled over until she ran into him; she drew her leg over his waist and propped herself up on her elbow. Her fingers toyed with his lawn shirt.

'It would be nice if we could get out on the sea,' she mused, 'together. I already miss the excitement of it.'

Lord Beckett made a 'hmm' sound, remaining tepid as usual with his eyes closed and his arms lazily over his head.

'Is that something that would be possible in the near future?' she pestered on as she ran two fingers across his chest.

He sighed. 'I would like to, but I must do as the King orders, and the King orders that I remain in Port Royal for the time being,' his voice was monotone and Elizabeth wondered if he was becoming annoyed with her. 'Though it shall change soon.'

Elizabeth smiled at this promising response. 'And you'll take me with you, won't you? I could work if you like, or perhaps-' she said it all in one excited breath.

His brow furrowed. 'Work? No, I don't think so. Life at sea is lonely, though, and I would certainly look forward to having you in my bed every night.'

It wasn't what Elizabeth wanted or planned to do, but it would be better than a dearie life in Port Royal. The cogs in her mind already turned with ideas as to how she would manipulate herself into being an important crewmember and not simply a play thing. Perhaps she could don a midshipmen's garb- by day a sailor, by night a rich mans toy. It was a life she felt she could be content with.

Her head fell to his chest with a satisfied sigh. Another question played on her mind, one that she felt she hadn't had time to ask.

'Davy Jones,' she whispered. 'What are you using his heart for?'

Lord Beckett was quiet and still. She thought that he may not answer her for a moment. 'I was sent here to exterminate the pirate scourge,' he replied smoothly. 'Having control over Jones makes my job much easier.'

Elizabeth thought that the conversation was best left at only that. She agreed that pirates needed to be purged from the seas- they raped, pillaged, and killed. There was nothing to save. But the pirate crew that she had come to call her own didn't deserve such a cruel fate. They had scarcely committed crimes worth punishing. Perhaps it was hypocritical for her to feel that way, but her thoughts on it wouldn't change. She could only hope that they would put distance between themselves and the threat of Davy Jones and his Kraken. Surely within a fortnight they would be far away from the Caribbean and past the West Indies. Elizabeth couldn't help but feel the cool pang of jealousy for their adventures.

The pair laid on the bed as thunder roared and the rain pelted off of the windows loudly. Time ticked by as they remained silent. It was a peace that Elizabeth was grateful for. Soon the windows went dark, save for the violent flashes of lightening. The room was lit in a golden glow as the warm fire crackled on. Eventually Elizabeth lifted her head from Lord Beckett's chest to see that he was deep in sleep. She pushed herself from her relaxed positon and removed her dress gown before attending to him. Her nimble fingers removed his rings and took them to her dressing table and she removed the white wig from his head. Not to her surprise he remained fast asleep. Elizabeth climbed into her bed and crawled under her satin sheets. She kissed Lord Becketts cheek before retiring to sleep herself, content with the simple affections of the evening.

Elizabeth fell into sleeps sweet caress within minutes.

 _'The king and his men stole the queen from her bed,' Elizabeth sung, 'and bound her in her bones.'_

It was a song that she had never heard. A figment of her dream land.

 _She stood on the bridge deck of a ship with Jacks compass firmly in hand, sailing to a place unknown. The Caribbean sky was as blue as it's waters. All was peaceful._

 _'You know you've done something terrible,' the words came from Jack, who stood beside her. He was the only other soul on the ship._

 _'And you haven't,' was her smooth retort._

 _'All my sins have been paid for, love,' he whispered. 'What about yours? Not a poor soul on this earth shall escape the after life. There's a circle deep in hell, with a name card marking your spot. "Lady Elizabeth Beckett : Liar, Betrayer, Thief, and Murderer," I reckon it reads.'_

 _Elizabeth's jaw tightened as she shot a glare at Jack._

 _The ships movements jarred, sending her crashing to the wooden deck. By the time she stood, Jack had disappeared. The familiar sound of the Kraken's hiss filled the air. In mere seconds it's giant tentacles were crashing onto the ship, sending debris flying, mirroring the day that she had put an end to Captain Jack Sparrow. The mast of the ship came toppling down and everything shook. Elizabeth jumped over the railing of the ship, escaping the fate of the Kraken. Her body vanished beneath the blue water. By the time she came to the surface, the ship and Kraken were gone. She looked around, her breathing unsteady, worried where the beast had gone._

 _The sun was setting. Elizabeth's panicked brown eyes watched as it fell faster than usual, sending the seas dark. A bright green light flashed where the sun had descended below the horizon. She looked around her dark surroundings, which changed once more. Now she swam in the dark waters below the fort, the place where she had fallen from so long before, when Jack had saved her from drowning. The docks weren't far and she tried to swim to safety._

 _But a hand grabbed her ankle. Without seeing, she knew who it was. Before she could scream, she was pulled into the black abyss. In a matter of seconds she was ten feet below and still descending. Her fingers desperately reached for the moonlit surface of the water. Elizabeth struggled against her lungs, which fought for her to inhale the black sea water. Further she descended to the depths, and gave up the fight. Her body inhaled, it felt like a soaking cloth had been wrapped tightly around her face. The salt water filled her lungs, burning like fire as it made it's journey through her as she slipped into the darkness. She could no longer tell if she was inhaling or exhaling. Her hands clutched her throat as her body wretched in pain and panic. After an eternity her feet touched the sandy sea bottom. The hand on her ankle was replaced with the iron grip of a weighted chain._

 _Elizabeth watched as Jack swam away from her, rising as she struggled against the chain. Her body wouldn't give up the fight, though her mind wished that it would. As she wretched, alone in the dark water, her vision finally faded to black._

Back in her dark bedroom, she awoke with a choked scream, unable to get a sound to come from her throat. Her chest heaved with labored breaths.

'What's the matter?' Her panic had woken Lord Beckett, who sat up beside her with his arm firmly around her.

'It was a nightmare,' she whispered, her eyes scanning the dark chambers on high alert. All was dark. What had happened to the fire and the candles? 'I was-' she wiped the bead of sweat from her brow with the back of her hand- 'I was drowning, I- the Kraken-'

Something moved in on of the dark corners.

'What was that?' Elizabeth drew her knees to her chest and backed towards the ornate headboard of her bed. 'Cutler I saw something-'

'-calm down, you're-'

'Cutler Beckett. . .' the velvety voice of a woman came from the corner. She stepped into the stream of moonlight that flooded the room from the French doors. A rag-like dress covered her vibrant ebony skin. 'Many year ago we made a deal.'

'Tia Dalma,' Lord Beckett muttered in shock. 'I've upheld the deal.' His voice wasn't as stoic as usual.

'Ah- so you have,' it was hard to see in the dark, but Elizabeth thought she saw the woman smile. 'Punish them who have bound me. You 'av. But now I wish to be freed from the bones what hold me.'

Elizabeth sat terrified, unable to explain to herself what was going on. Was she still asleep?

'Then I shall find the nine pieces of eight-' Lord Beckett assured the ghost-like woman.

'Neigh, the nine pieces of eight are useless. The pirate lords used objects, so dem hide away the objects from those looking,' she explained. 'But it is of no use. If the item is not passed on to another before him dies, I canna be free. Jack Sparrow has moved on wit him piece.'

Elizabeth finally spoke up. 'I hardly see how that's my husbands problem.' Terror made itself known in her shaky voice, far from the way she meant it to sound. Lord Beckett gripped her arm tightly, signaling for her to shut up.

'Ahh,' Tia Dalma stepped closer, 'But what if it was him woman what did it?'

Elizabeth froze, eyes wide and fingers clutching the sheets.

'You know why him 'aunt you. Him run a foul with an untamable and _cruel_ woman,' Tia smiled, able to admire Elizabeth. 'A woman what chained him to the mast of him own ship and fed him to the Kraken. Her watched as him was engulfed, sated with the victory. An him curse the day what he crossed you. . . Elizabeth.'

Lord Becketts eyes burned into the side of Elizabeth's head. Her face went hot and she felt like vomiting.

'You made a deal with me, not her,' he snapped. 'What do you want?'

'The nine pirate lords must release me,' she said. 'A task, Cutler Beckett, that you canna control. First-' she pointed at Elizabeth- 'you travel to me, den we journey to find Captain Jack Sparrow. Him can only be found by the one who killed him. Witout him, there is no chance for me. . . and so no chance for you.' Her last was meant for both of them.

Tia Dalma smiled widely, sending chills down both of their spines.

'How to we find Jack if he's dead?' Elizabeth questioned, keen to appease the woman.

'We journey. . . to Davy Jones' locker.'

Lightening flashed through the room and Tia Dalma vanished, leaving chaos in her wake.

WRITERS NOTE:

Thanks for reading! xxx

And a special thanks to Cupcakes and Tea! Your reviews are so sweet and much appreciated!


	11. An Impromptu Adventure

WRITERS NOTE

Thanks for reading and reviewing! You're all so sweet! xxx I really appreciate and enjoy reading what you have to say!

I hope everyone likes this chapter, it took so long because I have had horrible writers block and it hasn't been my favourite chapter to write. Something about it just didn't click for me. I'll probably be updating again in a few days. As I said before, I totally intended on only updating once weekly, but I'm just not a patient person. I will definitely continue updating this way, save for weekends, because I always feel weird while writing with my husband home. He would take the piss out of me for this haha.

Anyways, I was watching In the Loop and so tossed in a little Malcom Tucker (my spirit animal) quote, thought it was fitting because it's meant for a character that Tom Hollander plays. If you haven't seen it and you're not easily offended, it's great.

Even while typing I go on and on, blabbing away. Like I said, next chapter soon! xxx

'I _cannot_ believe you,' Elizabeth snapped, irritably pacing Lord Beckett's study. It was something that she had reiterated since the night before. 'No I can-' she turned on her heel to flash her husband another seething glare- 'you're a slimy git and I-'

'-and you simply _cannot_ believe me,' Lord Beckett finished for her, his monotonous voice lazily attempting to mock the way she spoke. He stood at the marble fireplace with a crystal glass of port in one hand while he casually picked up dust on a finger- earlier in their conversation he had interrupted her to remark that the servants weren't doing their jobs correctly, which sent Elizabeth into a five minute long tirade that ended in her throwing a cushion at him when she realized he wasn't listening. Everything about him, from the lazy way he stood to his preoccupied fidgeting, seeped with laxity. 'Yes so you've said, dearest. Anything else?'

The row hadn't started immediately after Tia Dalma left. For some time, Lord Beckett questioned Elizabeth on what she had done to Jack and why. She had reluctantly explained. Lord Beckett explained to Elizabeth that Tia Dalma was a witch of sorts with great power- that Jack had also made deals with her, and that her word was not to be questioned. He spoke of her fearfully, in a way so unusual to Elizabeth- he was scared of her. Then they discussed what Tia Dalma had demanded that they do; that Elizabeth travel to her, to begin the journey to find Jack. A few years before the fact, Elizabeth would have said it was crazy to save a dead man, but after so many months on the Pearl with Barbossa's skeleton crew and then fighting off Davy Jones and his band of sea creatures, it didn't seem far from the realm of possibility.

'But how am I to make such a journey with no crew?' she had questioned, chewing her knuckle nervously as they sat amongst her pillows together in the early hours of the morning.

That was when the row began. Lord Beckett informed her that the crew of the Black Pearl hadn't yet been released as he had promised her. They still sat in Port Royals prison. He had tried to amend his lies by insisting that if he hadn't held the group for questioning, it would have been difficult to track down the crew and therefore difficult to appease Tia Dalma, which was a matter that they were keen to attend to quickly. Elizabeth knew that what he said was true, but that didn't mean that his lies to her were right. She was hurt and expressed it through rants and assaulting him with cushions.

'Yes,' she continued in a matter-of-fact tone, arms defensively folded across her chest, 'you know-' her face was hot with rage, mostly conjured up by her husbands relaxed attitude, '-if I could I would-'

'You would what, dearest?' Lord Beckett questioned smugly. 'What would my pleasant little ray of sunshine do to me if she only could?' His overly articulated words were condescending and the smirk on his lips threw fuel onto the fire that was Elizabeth's rage.

'I'd _fucking_ punch you into _paralysis_!' she hissed at him, her voice shaking.

Lord Becketts brow went up, surprised at his wife's use of an expletive and her will to do such damage to him. It was all very entertaining to him, watching her storm about the room. It took very little coaxing to get her to carry on with the show. 'You do so wound me with your hateful words,' his voice dripped in sarcasm that matched that of his free hand held against his chest.

'You have not a care for-'

'-oh do stop before you give yourself a nosebleed,' Lord Beckett snapped harshly, for the first time in the row raising his voice at her. He finished off the remaining port in his glass and placed it loudly onto the marble mantel of the ornate fireplace.

Elizabeth stopped pacing, stunned that he shouted at her. A gross part of herself found it attractive.

'Now-' he began, meandering towards her - 'either you can calm yourself and we can discuss the plan, or you can simply retire to your chambers and we can try again tomorrow.' His fingers trailed softly across her chest, an affectionate action that contradicted his sharp words.

She slapped his hand away. 'I'm not a child so don't-'

Lord Beckett grabbed ahold of her hand and used it to pull her against him. 'You're my wife and you'll do as I say. Now shall we do this the easy way or the hard way?'

Elizabeth's brown eyes flashed down, unable to look at him directly. She knew that her behavior was getting them nowhere- though her pride made it difficult to back down. But she had to back down. 'Well. . . fine.'

'Fine? That's hardly a response. Fine we'll do it the hard way?'

'No,' she breathed, rolling her eyes spitefully at him. 'Fine we will do it the _easy_ way.'

Lord Beckett chucked and let her hand free. 'You know you're morbidly erotic when angry-' he strolled over to the lush red sofa that was now missing all of it's cushions. 'Come here,' he motioned to her to come closer with his fingers crooked.

Elizabeth recoiled. 'Cutler I hardly find myself in the mood for your carnal desires,' but her feet still brought her closer to him. She sat on the sofa and sighed.

'What if I ask nicely?'

'It's a pity you don't know how to be nice,' she retorted with her eyes slit smugly. 'Besides,' a sigh escaped her lips, product of all the stress she felt for their situation, 'we need to discuss a plan.'

The situation as it were had caused Elizabeth a great deal of stress and she knew it had for Lord Beckett too, but he didn't give in to urges to cry and shout like she did. He remained cool and collected while she went from wailing to screaming to laughing all within the minute. It was all very confusing- for one moment she would be grateful for his unwavering composure and the next it was the bane of her existence and her reason for lashing out. Her emotions would shoot through the ceiling and then drop like lead through the floor- so erratic that Lord Beckett remarked that her behavior was worthy of a visit to an asylum. The comment was met with a cushion to the side of his head.

Though Elizabeth's emotions were well warranted. Not a week prior to their row in the study she had been floating hopelessly through the ocean, with no end in sight. They found Port Royal, come to find that her father didn't really need saving, despite all that she did. Then she was already married, being haunted by Jack, worrying for her friends who turned out to be still imprisoned despite what her husband assured her, and a sea witch told her that she must make a quick gander down to Davy Jones' locker to save the man that she killed. Frankly she was surprised that the latter hadn't caused her hair to fall out.

'Perhaps you're right,' Lord Beckett agreed. 'Getting you out of Port Royal won't oppose any real issue. . .' he droned on. Elizabeth listened carefully, putting all of her trust in what he said. As he explained, they would stage a prison break- it would be easy to do, as he was in charge. She would break her crewmates out of their cell and lead them safely to the beach- the next move would be to commandeer a ship that would be left in the harbor for the taking. And so they would be free from Port Royal and Elizabeth would be well trusted by those she rescued. With the compass she would make her way to Tia Dalma's shack and they would do as the witch commanded- Elizabeth only hoped that the rest of the crew would be keen on saving Jack. 'Once you have Jack you'll search for me with the compass- I presume I'll have more information on the pirate lords then and you'll have spoken to Tia Dalma. . .'

Lord Beckett relaxed against the back of the sofa and sighed deeply. It was the first time Elizabeth had seen him at a loss for words. Her hand reached out and touched his thigh, in an attempt to comfort him.

'We'll take our next steps then,' she finished for him.

'Yes,' he whispered, deep in thought. His hand found hers- he squeezed it before standing to face her. 'I must ready a ship and let the guards at the prison know what is to happen. And I suppose you must ready to leave.'

Elizabeth nodded and stood with him. It was a strange moment- she felt sad for what was happening. They hadn't been married long and she had only a handful of days spent as his wife- she was robbed so quickly of her happiness. But there was more to it than that. It felt momentous; Elizabeth couldn't say whether it was anxiety or her gut warning her of things to come, but she felt like she was seeing Lord Beckett in his study for the last time. The creeping sense of impending doom made a home in her heart and she feared that it was there to stay. A lone tear escaped the barricade of her lashes.

'Why do you cry?'

'It's nothing,' Elizabeth breathed with the strain of tears, 'Perhaps you were right, I do need to visit an asylum. . .' a smile crossed her lips and his at the jest. She stepped towards him and touched the silk cravat that adorned his neck. 'I will see you before I go, won't I?'

Lord Beckett nodded unenthusiastically, as if not confident of himself. He took her hand from his neck and brought it to his lips before exiting the study without glancing at her once more.

Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but he slammed the door behind himself, leaving her alone and uncertain of their future.

* * *

For awhile, two hours to be exact, Elizabeth had remained in the study, flinging herself between tears of sadness and tears of panic. Eventually they seeped into tears of anger. It angered her greatly that after all of the trouble Jack had caused, after all of the peoples lives he risked for his own, that her life was now being uprooted once more and it was to save him. For all his bad deeds it seemed that God looked favourably down upon him while she was punished time and time again for her wrong doings. When would she finally be freed of the invisible debt that the universe demanded? She felt that would be never- she would save Jack, amending her fault against him, which would lead to another incident that she would pay dearly for.

 _'You did ask for another adventure,'_ she thought bitterly. It was an adventure sure enough, but not one that she wanted to partake in.

Through the long lavish halls of her husbands manor she prowled- her anger had finally pulled her from the sofa and put her into motion. She was determined to save Jack and get back to the life she felt she had well suffered to achieve. No pirate or sea witch was going to delay her any longer.

Her wrathful stride brought her to her husbands chambers. It was a room that she had not visited but once; it was Lord Beckett who came to her through the door that connected his chambers to hers. The walls were opulent, donned in maroon brocade silk and decorated with elaborate mirrors and paintings, all gilded in gold. A large four-poster bed was the center piece, draped with velvet and satin drapes and swags, enough so to dress several beds. The crystal chandelier was the grandest in the manor in Elizabeth's opinion, and it hung from the ornate painted ceilings. It was a room that needn't a soul inside of it for one to know that it belonged to a man. From the floor to the ceiling, it seeped masculinity. Elizabeth found it to be a rather intimidating place and preferred the softness of the pastels and florals that decorated her chambers.

Within the large mahogany wardrobe in the corner was where she found her husbands clothes. Elizabeth rifled through the trousers until she found a pair that would do, and stole a lawn shirt from one of the many. It only took her a moment to strip down and put on the two garments; she was always amazed and jealous at how easy it was for men to dress. She could never hope to get into a modern dress with all of the laces and layers without the help of chambermaids, let alone all of the undergarments that went with it.

A sharp breath passed her lips and she went to a mirror to check her appearance. For a second, she didn't recognize the girl in the reflection. No matter how many times she saw herself dressed so inappropriately, it always stunned her. Though she had only been back from her pirating adventures at sea for a handful of days, once more she had fallen back into the usual standards of a lady. Suddenly she looked so similar to the mangy girl stuck out at sea on a long boat- minus the dirt. It was as if she hadn't returned to a decent life at all. She used her fingers to brush her hair away from her face and glanced herself over once more.

'Lady Beckett,' the voice caused Elizabeth to jump as she spun to face the doorway where the voice had come from. It was Henrietta, her chambermaid that had also worked as such in her fathers household.

Elizabeth put her hand over her quick paced heart and let out a breathy laugh. 'Henrietta, you-'

'Lord Beckett's waiting outside with a carriage for you.'

Reluctantly, Elizabeth nodded. It was all too soon- so quickly had they discussed what they were to do and then so suddenly it was being put into motion. None of it felt that it could be real. She had hoped that they might have time for each other one last time, but the chance of that looked grim. Henrietta lead her mistress through the manor and out to the circle drive, where a black carriage awaited. Elizabeth worried her brow; this was it, the first step to leaving Port Royal to save her victim from the hell she had sentenced him to. She opened the door unenthusiastically to find her husband waiting for her as promised and took the seat across from him. The carriage jolted forward and they were off. She eyed her husband as he glanced out of the window at the scenes passing by.

'I'm sorry for wasting away the day quarrelling with you,' Elizabeth admitted as she reached out and lightly touched his knee. 'I wish we had more time, before. . .' with no respond to her touch, not even a glance, she sighed and pulled her hand away. 'Well. . .' she didn't know what else to say on the matter.

'There's no point in fretting over it now,' Lord Beckett's voice was cold and stony, as usual.

Elizabeth couldn't tell if he was angry with her or not and worriedly chewed her lip. The carriage ride was silent and awkward. She felt self-conscious, acutely aware that Lord Beckett was likely thinking about her; whether his thoughts were kind or not she didn't know, but she suspected that they weren't kind. Her fingers anxiously untied and retied the strings on her lawn shirt many a time and oft, trying to ease her nerves. The tension wasn't to be suffered for long, as within minutes the carriage came to a sudden halt. Her hand roughly pulled back the curtain that obscured her view through the window to see that they had arrived at the prison.

Lord Beckett wordlessly stood and left the carriage, leaving his hand waiting to help her out. Elizabeth took his hand and followed his steps. She craned her head, viewing the prison in all it's intimidating glory. The last time she had seen its stone walls and barred windows was the night that she had left Port Royal months before.

'There are weapons for your use on the ship,' Lord Beckett's harsh voice interrupted her gaze, 'and I've made sure that you'll cross no enemies as you pass through the prison. Here-' the compass was held out in his hand for her- 'you'll need this.'

Elizabeth took it from him and held it tightly. Tension hung between the two bodies. Her brown eyes openly examined him, waiting for him to speak again. Was that all he had to say to her? She wished that he would say more- do more.

'I'll find you as soon as I can,' she had said it to reassure herself more than her husband. Her throat swelled, threatening tears. 'Tell my father that I'm sorry,' a tear escaped, streaming down her cheek. 'I-' she couldn't speak for if she did, tears would fall freely.

Lord Beckett nodded, still cool and unreadable, all that Elizabeth wished that she could also be. 'I will.'

She swallowed hard and looked down nervously at her hands.

The two stood before the prison, each waiting for the other to move. Elizabeth made the first; she turned to rush away, unable to suffer the tension any longer. Her feet carried her into one of the many dark halls of the prison as she wiped away her continual flow of tears. Lord Becketts footsteps followed hers as she went blindly through the maze of doors and halls. Suddenly his hand gripped her arm, jarring her movements forward. He pulled her harshly back down the corridor and into a broom cupboard. She didn't argue. It was what she wanted him to do; react to her leaving.

The cupboard was pitch black. Elizabeth backed towards one of the small stone walls. Lord Becketts hands found her in the dark and unceremoniously pulled her trousers downwards. She gasped as he turned her around and she felt his hot appendage against the soft skin of her inner thigh. Her hands found the cold stone wall, using it to steady herself in the darkness. In a swift moment, he had sheathed himself inside of her. Elizabeth cried out, bringing Lord Becketts hand over her mouth, muffling the moans that would echo in the hallow prison. His free arm wrapped around her torso possessively as he rutted into her. In just moments his pace had quickened against her, bringing bouts of bit back moans passed his lips.

As soon at the spur of the moment passion had begun, it ended. Elizabeth leaned against the wall, catching her breath. Lord Beckett pulled her trousers up and reached behind her to tie them in place before tidying her shirt. She kissed his cheek as he did so.

'Cutler,' she whispered. Her stomach turned as she thought about what she was about to say. She couldn't. 'I wish we would have done that all day instead of rowing,' she said instead, trying to sound flirty and upbeat; all that at the moment, she was not.

'Yes,' Lord Beckett agreed. 'Yet we didn't,' he opened the cupboard door, letting in the silver moonlight. He stroked her hair as she passed by him.

Elizabeth nodded as she stepped across the threshold of the door. She reentered the dark corridor and sighed. Her fingers dug into the wooden frame, her body silently pleading for her to stay. 'Cutler,' she repeated once more, as she turned back to admire him, 'I love you.' Before he could respond, Elizabeth stormed down the corridor, away from him. She didn't want to hear what he had to say for her admission. She picked up her pace, the breeze against her teary cheeks soothing her. Windows and doors passed by her in a blur as she held her focus on her destination. Just before she reached the section of the prison that held iron cells, he caught up to her.

'Elizabeth,' he called to her, his voice echoing through the slender corridor. She turned to see him standing some distance back, only visible by the stream off moonlight that crossed his chest. 'We trust no one but each other.'

It wasn't a question, rather a demand, which Elizabeth gave a firm nod to and then she was off, ready to set their plan into action.


	12. Like a Phoenix

Their ship floated not far from their destination. It had been nearly three weeks since the feigned escape from Port Royal. Elizabeth sat on the stairs leading to the bridge, idly watching the compass and occasionally fingering her wedding ring, which hung from a chain around her neck; just days into her journey she found herself nearly caught out by Will, who asked where the ring had come from. It had been on her finger and she had forgotten to remove it prior to leaving the manor. It was an incriminating ornate gold diamond ring, which flashed in the sunlight like a beacon, announcing her deceit for all to see.

'It was my mothers,' she had lied to him, unable to look at him in the face when she did so. 'My father gifted it to me upon our return to Port Royal.'

It was a lie that Elizabeth knew he would not believe, despite the acknowledging nod he afforded her answer- her father was wealthy, but not wealthy enough that he could have bought such a grand piece of jewelry, and Will knew that too. She wondered if he had taken notice that she had since removed the ring and hidden it from sight. It was strange, being so near to her most recent fiancé- often she thought about how they ended. It was just that; they hadn't really ended. Perhaps Will even thought they were still engaged, which was an idea she hadn't given much thought to. Elizabeth felt sorry for it in some ways. Though she had initially dreaded the idea of breaking his heart with brutal honesty, she wished now that she had. She wished that her honestly had lead to a fight and everything came to light. It would have been painful and embarrassing for some time, but not forever. It would have been better than knowing that he still loved her and would vie for her until he found out the truth. Elizabeth was left tortured with the truth of it all.

From the stairs where she sat, she could hear Will talking to Mister Gibbs, who stood at the helm. They hadn't yet realized that she sat so near.

'Is it not strange to you?' Will had muttered lowly. 'We escape from prison, come across not one guard, and then there just so happens to be an unmanned ship waiting in the harbour?'

'What be you meanin'?'

'I don't want to think that its. . .' he lowered his voice, _'her_. We've even seen the navy and not one ship has made a move against us. Surely they're looking for a commandeered ship of the fleet? Is it not suspicious?'

'Aye. . .'

'She escaped prison with charges against her, and yet when we returned-'

Elizabeth stood, interrupting the conversation. She scowled at Will with waspish eyes. 'You might do well to feel indebted to me; I could have let you rot in that cell and left Port Royal on my own.' Without a response from either of the men, who suddenly took to attending to the ship, she marched down the stairs and stalked into the chart room.

It was void of all life and too full of furniture. Elizabeth threw herself into a large leather chair in the corner and draped her legs over its arm. She squeezed her eyes shut and sighed loudly, wishing then more than ever that she was back in Port Royal. It was expected that the journey they were on was going to take months, perhaps even a whole year. How was she to go so long if so soon she was suspected? Then there was the idea of being away so long while her father and husband waited in Port Royal. Elizabeth imagined the row that must have transpired between the two when her father found out that Lord Beckett had let her leave. It wouldn't have surprised her if he had placed the blame on her to avoid his new father in laws ill humour. She couldn't blame him if he had done so.

Elizabeth sunk further into the chair and buried her face in her hands. The familiar sense of loss crept into her heart and tormented her thoughts. She missed her husband dearly and thought of him frequently, most often when she was left alone, as if the others could hear her thoughts. Most of the time her mind played macabre scenes of his ship sinking or a sword impaling his chest, but sometimes it crept to the more sensual side. While sitting in the leather that late afternoon it was the latter. She recalled one of the few nights they had spent together.

It had been an uneventful night, her first whole night at her new home. Lord Beckett had returned from the offices to share the evening meal with her, only to directly return to work with an apathetic promise to return by midnight. The letter he had received that morning from the King had promptly ended any potential fun for the day. Elizabeth hadn't minded that so much; she was exhausted and even after their little reunion on the stairs, Lord Beckett afforded her no sleep. Only once the sun had risen above the horizon for an hour and the letter was brought to his attention did she finally fall into a blissful sleep, finally waking when afternoon tea was brought to her at three o'clock. After their evening meal together she had retired to her chambers to wait for the return of her husband once more.

'Culpeper had called Catherine, "my little, sweet fool," in a love letter; she considered marrying him during her time,' Elizabeth had whispered to herself as she read, 'as maid-of-honour to Anne of Cleves.' She laid before the crackling fire on her stomach, with her head propped up lazily on one hand. That hand was tingling as it fell asleep beneath the weight of her. 'During the autumn, a crisis began to loom-' she yawned loudly.

It was a history book that Elizabeth had been reading, one about the scandalous Queen Catherine Howard, her favourite Tudor queen. She felt herself able to relate to the young queen who had met an untimely death; a woman who was killed for faults that would have never befallen her if she had simply not been born into a world made for men. Elizabeth thought most of her problems would also be avoided if not for the demanding and war hungry law makers.

The doorknob clicked- Elizabeth's brown eyes had flicked up to see her husband quietly entering her chambers; she went back to reading as he ambled towards her. She saw him sit beside her on the floor out of the corner of her eye.

'Ah- Queen Catherine Howard,' Lord Beckett had said as he peeked over her shoulder. 'I daresay your interest in such a woman isn't surprising at all.'

'And why is that?'

Lord Beckett hadn't responded. Instead he traced his fingers across her back and to her hip before forcing her onto her back. Elizabeth sighed and repositioned the book above her head, still reading. He gathered a handful of her lace and chiffon skirts and pulled them up to her thigh, exposing her slender legs. An ink stained finger skimmed up her smooth skin.

'I'm preoccupied,' Elizabeth whined, arguing his actions, but her words didn't avail her. She let the book settle on her chest as his fingers wondered higher up her thigh. 'How boorish of you. Here I am, a lady, minding my own-'

'-you hardly behaved as a lady last night, if I recall correctly you-'

'-don't,' Elizabeth had cut him short, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

A smirk had played on Lord Becketts face. 'I think it's simply rude for you to call me boorish while you're so. . .' he ran his hand all the way up to the soft flesh of her boney hip, 'indecorous, I suppose is a fitting word.'

Elizabeth had given a breathy sigh, unable to stop the familiar feelings of fire building up deep within. That growing need for what he could offer, driven by the scarlet way he spoke and his hand placed so indelicately beneath her skirts. Her mind had flashed back to that morning, just before the sun rose, when they had been tangled in satin bedsheets as she rode him. Elizabeth bit her lip.

'I know what you want,' she had whispered. 'Do it.'

'Ah-' his voice had suddenly turned smug, far from the sexuality that it had previously seeped. 'But you're wrong- I don't find myself in the mood that. However-' he moved over her legs. 'I could do you a favour. . .'

'And what favour is that, my lord?' the question had been asked with her eyes slit in suspicion.

Lord Beckett had leaned over her and whispered, 'Spread your legs for me and I'll show you.'

Elizabeth didn't find herself in her usual state of wanting to argue and challenge all that was said. The tightness of her loins demanded attention. She had parted her long legs and watched as Lord Beckett made his way down her body, before lowering his head to the apex of her thighs. Part of her was horrified, but most of her was intrigued. As she felt his breath pass over her most intimate part she closed her eyes and sighed. His tongue ran the length of her slick desire. She moaned as his tongue had blissfully caressed every sensitive fold. Her thighs trembled as the passion inside her coiled, tighter, making the journey higher and higher, trying to reach the plateau of drunken orgasmic pleasure. Just a few more-

'Elizabeth,' a voice interrupted the memory. It was Will, standing by the double doors of the chart rooms.

'Oh-' Elizabeth stood quickly, as if caught out in the very act she was remembering. She stumbled in her franticness and knocked over a nearly empty bottle of rum. 'Will I-' she didn't know what she was going to say.

'I want to apologize for what you heard,' he said, his voice never harsh towards her, as usual. 'I just wish I could see why this all seems so strange to me. If it's a part of a plan and you can't trust me, you can, you know you can-'

'I can't talk about this now, Will-' she picked at the dirt under her fingernails, unable to look at his boyish face- 'it's better that you don't understand.' Was it better? Elizabeth felt guilty that yes, it was better that he didn't know, but only because she needed the crew members.

Will cocked his head and let out a loud sigh. 'I feel like the only person who was under the impression that when we returned to Port Royal we would be married. Was that not the reward for giving the compass to Lord Beckett? Freedom for us so we can wed? Yet I saw none of that freedom.'

Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest and uncomfortably shifted her weight to her other leg. 'I'm sorry Will, a lot's happened that neither of us expected,' she wished she would stop talking, fearful that she was soon to lead him on like the obeying puppy he was. 'I didn't know that you were still imprisoned until my father made me aware,' she lied. 'It was him who helped me escape with you and the crew and the ship- Will, too much has happened to worry about the wedding- what with Davy Jones and the heart, and Jack-'

 _'There is no wedding,'_ her mind warned.

'Yes,' his eyes slit. 'Jack.'

Suddenly, the door burst open, much to Elizabeth's relief. It was Mister Gibbs.

'Tia Dalma's island approaches.'

* * *

The long boat crept through the dark swamp. Elizabeth had noted that it had been light out when they had entered the swamp, but it seemed that twilight had come within the looming trees. Eerie figures holding candles stood within those trees and in the muddy waters, watching as the boat slowly passed by. They hummed a low tune that she had not ever heard. She could have swore she saw Jack more than once. Elizabeth wondered if they, like those aboard the long boat, mourned him, or if it was a ritual of sorts. Either way, she felt less than content with the situation. Her brown eyes scanned the perimeter of the boat, willing for Cotton and Pintel to row faster before any of the people came too close. Soon the lights of a shack crept into view and a new fear made itself known to Elizabeth. What if Tia Dalma told the others that it was she who killed Jack? She swallowed hard, her throat dry. The boat slowed to a halt and brushed against the old wooden dock outside of the shack. Will was the first to step onto its surface and held his hand out, which Elizabeth took, using him to steady her foot onto the dock.

Elizabeth had never seen anything like Tia Dalma's shack. It was so cluttered, even on the outside. Inside she was far more surprised and intrigued by all of the hanging jars of creatures and ingredients. A large yellow python was wrapped tightly around one of the trees that had grown through the old shack floor. Timidly, her fingers reached out and touched it's scaly skin- she had never seen a snake before, let alone touched one. A desk sat in the middle of it all, which held a dead bad put on display. Elizabeth kneelt down and examined it closely. As grotesque as it all was, it was certainly intriguing and warranted a closer look. The last time she had seen so many peculiar objects was at a museum in London when she was nine.

'Come,' Tia Dalma said, making the whole group jump as she silently appeared in the corner.

The crew followed, Elizabeth at the back, into a smaller room behind a beaded curtain. The dark beauty left silently, leaving them waiting on chairs and crates amongst the humid room. Gibbs stood in the a doorway across the room which lead outside, the paranoid aging man obviously vexed by the shack and ready to make a run for it if necessary. The only sound that came, beside the loud cicadas in the swamp, was the repetitive thud caused by Will absentmindedly throwing his knife into a wooden table top.

Tia entered the room once more, now with a tray full of drinks. She first approached Elizabeth, who looked down, hoping that she wouldn't be spoken to.

'Against de cold. . .' Tia looked Elizabeth into her eyes and spoke softly, 'and de sorrow.' Tia held out the tray.

Elizabeth took the mug out of curtesy and looked inside. It was a deep red liquid- she assumed it was red wine, but by the looks of the shack such luxury wasn't likely to be held in it's walls. She held it tightly in her hand, but did not drink. It felt to her that Tia should be, at least for the moment, considered an enemy. _'We trust no one but each other,'_ her husbands warning played in her mind. It would be trusting to drink blindly from a stranger.

Tia next went to Will, who she kneelt down beside. 'It's a shame. I know you're t'inking that wid the Pearl, you coulda captured the devil and set free your fadder's soul,' she consoled.

'Doesn't matter now,' Will took a mug from the tray, 'The Pearl's gone. Alone with it's captain.' He threw his knife into the table again.

Elizabeth had nearly forgotten that Will had said he met his father, a member of Davy Jones' crew. She wondered if it would motivate him to help get Jack back, or if he would shy away when the daunting task finally came to an ugly head.

'Aye,' Mister Gibbs chimed in from the doorway. 'And already the world seems a bit less bright. He fooled us all right to the end. But I guess that honest streak finally won out.' He stepped fully into the room and raised his mug. 'To Jack Sparrow!'

'Never another like Captain Jack,' Ragetti also raised his mug.

'He was a gentleman of fortune, he was,' Pintel did the same.

Elizabeth felt her skin prickling in guilt and her eyes burnt with the threat of tears. It was an emotion increasingly difficult to ignore when all those around her pitied the man that she had put an end to. Especially those who she thought wouldn't be so hurt over the loss. 'He was a good man,' she said half heartedly, wishing she could sound more genuine.

They all sipped after lowering their mugs; all but Elizabeth, who held it to her lips, but wouldn't drink.

Will put his mug down and met his gaze with Elizabeth's with sorrowful eyes. Her guilty brown eyes darted to the floor. 'If there was anything could be done to bring him back. . .' Will muttered to Elizabeth, watching her still. He stood. 'Elizabeth-'

'Would you do it? Hmm?' Tia Dalma jumped onto her chance- well, their chance, Elizabeth supposed. The two woman made eye contact as Tia glided across the room. 'Would you? Hmm? What would any of you be willing to do? Hmm? Will you sail to de end of de eart' and beyond. . . to fetch back _witty_ Jack and 'im precious Pearl?'

The room was silent. The first and only plan that Elizabeth and Lord Beckett had to appease Tia hung on that very moment. In that moment she felt that none of them would agree and that whatever wrath that the witch held over the pair for their mistakes would be swung down swiftly. But before all hope disappeared, Mister Gibbs stepped forward.

'Aye,' he said proudly.

'Aye!'

Soon most of their small crew had agreed. Tia turned to Elizabeth once more, silently asking a question that she knew the answer to.

'Yes,' Elizabeth said as she nodded her head softly.

'Aye,' Will whispered just after her.

Tia Dalma smiled a smile that was much less scary than what she had delivered to Elizabeth and Lord Beckett in the dead of the night. 'Alright,' she breathed. 'But if you're goin' brave de weird, and haunted shore, at world's end den. . .' she moved to stand beside Elizabeth, 'you will need a captain who knows dose waters.'

Footsteps came down the wooden stairs, riddled with candles. The group all moved to see who it was, curious and afraid. Elizabeth stood from the crate that she had sat upon and moved towards the center of the room. She could hardly react when the familiar face finally descended. Her mouth opened like a fish as she took in the familiar face- like a phoenix rising from the ashes, it was Captain Hector Barbossa.

'So tell me,' Barbossa barked loudly in the small room, 'what's become of my ship?' He smiled cruelly and took a bite of a green apple, it's juices leaking down his beard, before giving a hearty laugh.

WRITERS NOTE

Thanks for reading! Would have updated sooner, but things have been really busy here with Easter and we're on holiday in Dover right now!


	13. The Whispers of the Canaries

Three months had passed Lord Beckett by as he made calculated moves and counter moves. Two major tasks he had no choice but to carry out, both appointed by those who he wished to appease most. There was the King, who ordered the mass execution of all criminals with no exceptions and the immediate war on the pirate scourge. Both were draining tasks, but the work kept Lord Beckett occupied. Then there was Tia Dalma, who wished for the Bretheran Court to be gathered and made to free her- Elizabeth's task, for the time being- and then to slaughter all those who ever thought to keep her imprisoned. The latter had always been a task imposed by her, but it was only now that the time was right. It was his payment for being rewarded so and Tia Dalma was not to be disappointed- something that he was fearful of, for he had absolutely no plan. For the time being, he focused his attentions on what he could do- appease the king and gather information on the pirate lords. Thus far he was successful in appeasing the King; that very day two hundred executions would be carried out. However obtaining information on the pirate lords from the fort in Port Royal was proving to be difficult- save for a miniscule detail that they could be drawn to court if one of their own sings with the coin in hand. Lord Beckett thought this was most likely a fallacy- even if it was true, Tia Dalma said that the lords didn't use the coins, but it was all he had. It was hardly an achievement. Mister Mercer was trailing Elizabeth on his orders and Davy Jones was loose on the seas, killing every pirate he came across while failing to question any, as he had been ordered. Lord Beckett knew he had to get out on the sea to accomplish anything.

Most worryingly was Elizabeth, who was out in the open ocean once more with a band of ill-bred heathens. It was Lord Beckett's reasoning for sending Mister Mercer after her- if real trouble came, she had a chance. At least that was until she entered the realm of the dead where he would have no way of keeping an eye on her. He tried to put her out of his mind. One would have thought it would have been easy to, with all that had to be done. But Weatherby was insufferable with his disquiet feelings of animosity towards him and mentioned Elizabeth nearly every hour. The aging man would question if there was any news of her and receive, as usual, the answer he didn't want; that no, there was no news. Then he plummeted into a tirade. Just that very morning he had done so.

'You promised that you would keep her safe-' Weatherby had reiterated feverously as he paced the fort map room with his hands clutched behind his back- 'and then you simply let her leave Port Royal? Helped her, even?' He had hung his head, ready to deliver his next line just as he had perhaps hundreds of times before that moment; it was his attempt at evoking guilt in Lord Beckett. 'And then you refuse to tell me, a man in the winter of his life, where his daughter is- why she is where she is.'

'Elizabeth is my wife,' Lord Beckett had repeated apathetically, just as he had when the conversation was had all the other times. 'I am just as worried.'

'You don't sound very worried.'

With that conversation occurring many times a day, it was hard for Lord Beckett to pull his mind from his wife and the trouble they were in. But he couldn't fault Weatherby's uneasiness; he was just as ridden with the same anxieties, only he was skilled in not showing emotion.

At the moment, Lord Beckett stood stoically, exercising this skill to his fullest; just fifty yards away the executions took place, sending seven criminals to their deaths at a time. Not that he had to keep too many emotions to himself over it; he was hardly bothered over their deaths. To Lord Beckett, it wasn't his fault, it was the Kings decision and besides- criminals were hardly people. He had his palms rested upon a cool wooden table top as he glanced over a map; far too vexed by the lack of update on Mister Mercers part to even glance at what was happening so near. Until footsteps marching up the wooden steps interrupted his thoughts.

'Lord Beckett,' Captain Groves said, announcing his presence as he approached the table. 'They've started to sing, sir.' He sounded unsure of himself; confused as to why he was giving such a seemingly futile update.

A smile curled at the corner of Lord Beckett's lips. At last, a change in the routine. 'Finally.'

* * *

Far away from the carnage that Lord Beckett gave his hand to in Port Royal, Lady Elizabeth Beckett sat on an old cargo chest tucked away in the bowels of the ship, hidden from the eyes of the others. The air was musty, but it was cool; so unalike the stifling heat and humidity of high summer felt on the main deck. It had sent her head whirling with threats of a migraine- Elizabeth assumed that the great stress she felt was also to blame. And so she found herself retiring to a quiet and dark place. It wasn't long before she felt better for it, but couldn't bring herself to leave. It was only three o'clock if her calculations were correct, but the day had been filled to the brim of things to do and she was spent for it.

Barbossa had taken on his new duty as captain, guiding them to a world unknown. His prompt ability to lead surprised no one aboard the ship. Elizabeth stayed out of his ways most days, unwilling to be ordered around by the barking old man. But sometimes it couldn't be avoided. That very morning the motley crew and their commandeered frigate had made port in a large Spanish town near the canal that they would use to pass through the land to the Pacific Ocean. Barbossa had given their orders in a demanding hiss; they needed food, water, and anything else of use that they could find. And so they went; the dirty crew members stalked the streets of the town, stealing whatever they could get their boney hands on. Elizabeth trailed after, leaving small sums of gold to make up for missing items. After the hours of gathering, they were appointed to the task of making it through the canal. This was when Elizabeth had crept away.

'...the king and his men, stole the queen from her bed,' Elizabeth softly sang the strange song from her nightmare as she fiddled with Jack's compass. It was of no use at the moment; she had tried to want most to save Jack, so that she could ultimately return to Port Royal, but that had sent the needle spinning. Even the enchanted compass did not know the way to the world of the dead. So instead she let it point to what she really wanted- Lord Cutler Beckett. Elizabeth watched the needle, willing for it to start swaying, signaling that he was closer than perhaps before. They had seen several EIC vessels over their journey and each time she pulled out the compass to see if it pointed its way- not that she could ever approach a ship with Lord Beckett on it without having the crew kill her for being a turncoat, but it would comfort her enough. 'And bound her i-in her bones...'

Elizabeth sighed and lethargically leaned against the damp wooden hull of the ship.

Time was grinding by, unpitying of her yearn to return to her husband and father. It was all she thought of. What her father was doing- if he worried tirelessly over her fate, pained by her short lived return to him. She tried to imagine him happy, going about his business as usual; tea in the morning as he read through the tasks that he had written out the day previous to remind himself of all that had to be done. He had always read those tasks out loud to her as they sat in the parlour, blissfully unaware of the troubles that his daughters future would hold. And then there was Lord Beckett, who Elizabeth worried for much more, for she knew that it was possible he didn't stay within the safety of Port Royal for long. There was nothing that could serve their task there- not any that she could think of- and if she had correctly assumed her husbands character, he was not one to be content with such a task in another's hands. It was likely that by now, he was out on the cruel seas and perhaps making dealings with the heathen Davy Jones. What could happen to him, her mind had plenty of vivid images to serve as answers, but all made her sick to her stomach. It seemed no matter how hard she tried, her thoughts always turned to melancholy.

Her fingers passed over her scalp and through her tangled hair as she closed her eyes, trying to sooth her thoughts. A sound emitted from somewhere beyond the cargo crates that made up her small sanctuary. It wasn't the usual groaning of the wooden ship, but footsteps approaching.

 _'Will,'_ Elizabeth thought bitterly. She thought that once more he was going to attempt to corner her to ask questions that she didn't want to answer. It was selfish, and she knew it, but couldn't repent for it. How to treat him was a constant conflict in her mind- she wished that she had never admitted that she loved him and that they could have continued on as friends. That was what she wanted now, but her own guilt would never afford her that.

But it wasn't Will who appeared in the small parting in the stacks of crates. Tia Dalma stepped through, holding her skirt as to not get it caught against the wood.

'May I?'

Elizabeth nodded and gestured towards a wooden crate for her to sit upon. She was frightened by Tia Dalma, but the company of a fellow woman, even if dangerous, far surpassed that of a man. Her brown eyes followed the witch as she went to sit not far from her.

'It's nice here,' Elizabeth said, trying to ease the tension that was only felt by herself. 'Well, quiet; away from Barbossa and the others. I find the company of such men taxing.'

Tia Dalma smiled and let out a breathy laugh. 'I tink de same.'

For a moment, they were silent, until Tia held out her hand. In her palm a was an old ornate silver coin to show Elizabeth.

'What is it?' she outstretched her hand.

'De song has been sung,' Tia said as she dropped the coin into Elizabeth's hand. 'De Bretheran Court 'as been called.'

Elizabeth had an idea what the Bretheran Court was, from reading she had done as a child. It was a gathering of pirates who claimed themselves to be pirate lords and held control over portions of the vast ocean. She turned the cold coin over in her hand, examining its markings.

'It one of de nine pieces of eight-' Tia moved closer, lowering her voice- 'it does not count, tru, de pirate lords 'av used other pieces. But it still sing. Listen.'

Elizabeth held the coin to her ear; surprisingly, it was ringing. She didn't understand. 'Nine pieces of eight? What does that mean?'

'In de beginning tare was nine pirate lords- de founders of de Bretheran Court. . .' Tia looked calculating, as if wondering if she should tell Elizabeth more. 'Dey bound me- eight of tem did. De ninth. . . him love me. Him could nah do it, so him show de others how. . . And so, only eight pieces of de nine we need to free me.'

Elizabeth watched the dark woman curiously. She wondered what she was and who it was that loved her. 'Why would they bind you?'

Tia broke her gaze with Elizabeth and looked at the floor. 'Dem wanted to rule de seas. I was too harsh for dem. . .' her jaw clenched in anger. 'Do you know who I am, Elizabeth?' With no answer, she whispered, 'Calypso.'

Elizabeth's brow furrowed. She had heard the name before- where, she did not remember.

'I am de sea, and dem men bound me in dis body so dey can destroy each other witout trouble from me. . .' Tia went on. 'I long to be released. . .'

They fell silent once more, each listening to the waves crash against the side of the ship as it groaned. Elizabeth's mind was reeling with all this new information, trying to put all of the pieces together.

'Why don't you tell the others about me?' Elizabeth asked.

Tia let out a breathy laugh and rested her head on her hands. 'Tares many tings that I do not wish for dem to know. . . what I have told you,' she paused in thought. 'I see dat you are like me. Both live in a world what's not our own- forced to be cruel to see us ends meet. Both love men what we should nah.'

'I suppose you're right,' Elizabeth breathed. Her eyes searched for a moment, until once more she met Tia's eyes. 'I will see to it that you are freed. And when I do, I will see to it that those who have kept you so shall be punished, no matter what.'

'An I tank you for dat,' she stood and swept towards the gap between the crates, stopping just once more to speak. 'Den we shall both be free, an return to de ones what we love. . .'

Just as she slipped between the crack, Elizabeth stood. 'Wait,' she said. 'How did you know it was me who killed Jack?'

Tia turned and smiled. 'De canaries. . .' her honeyed voice whispered eerily. With that, she was gone, leaving Elizabeth alone once more.

A yellow canary bird landed on the crate where Tia Dalma sat, watching Elizabeth as it sung.

 **WRITERS NOTE**

Super sorry for the late update. I have been really busy. Fun fact I am an American living in the UK (if you couldn't tell by my use of both countries slang and way of spelling, lol). I live with my husband and it's that time where we have to fill out ridiculous amounts of paperwork for my daughter and I's new visas so we don't get deported. It's really time consuming and honestly has just fried my brain. But we're done now so I should be able to get back to work on this with full force and perhaps gain a few of my brain cells back! Yay!

Anyways this is a short chapter and I'm sorry but I just wanted to get something out there.


	14. Time and Tide

The ship groaned as another harsh wave beat the side of the ship. They now sailed not far from Singapore, in the rough waters of East Asia.

Elizabeth used her hand to steady herself on the wooden crate-turned bed which she sat upon. Once she felt her balance regained, she brought the quill in her hand back to the ink pot, which she had cleverly joined to a barrel near her bed using candle wax.

 _Day two hundred and seventy four,_ she wrote in a blank journal she had found in the charting room.

 _I think it is day two hundred and seventy four, based only on the markings I have made on the wall in my little corner of the cargo hold. Of course, this is the number of days since we first left Port Royal, and not from Tia Dalma's island. Time has begun to escape me, for I cannot believe that our journey has been so prolonged. I do not know what I suspected- I suppose I had surmised that Singapore was as near as England was to Jamaica. Alas that journey took just three months, with little help in the way of tail winds. The nine months upon this hellish ship has been gruelling. Each day crawls by, growing longer as every night passes. I tired so long ago of what little books could be found in the charting room- of course, none good enough to read twice. I do long to be on land once more, for this journey taxes me far more than anticipated._

The ship rocked once more, sending an ink drop upon the page as Elizabeth waited in thought. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she shifted positions, her boney rump beginning to ache against the less than agreeable makeshift bed.

 _It affords one no comforts. The food is dry and the water stale. I feel like I am once more back in the prison cell deep within the bowels of Port Royals fort, fasting against my own wishes and left with only the wretchedness of my own mind. I suppose I cannot complain, for I have held a firm hand with all that has lead me here._

A glass jar fell from one of the crates in the darkness past the crates that guarded her sanctuary, causing her to flinch. Once she was sure that she had no unwanted company, she began writing again.

 _Writing here is the only solace that I have. It holds semblance to having another to speak to, for that I do miss. I feel that for so long I have been alone and so much has happened over this year last, and yet I have hardly spoken a word of it. It seems inconceivable that I can write the words_ _ **this year past,**_ _as it seems impossible that a year could have gone past. How has it been so long? Nearly a year since the wedding never to be. Nearly a year since I found myself in love with one that was not my fiancé. . . nine months since I found myself married to that man and just as long since I fed Jack to the Kraken. It is certainly impossible that it has been so long, and it feels longer still for I have not seen the one I love for that time too. My hearts aches when I think of Cutler and for that I try not to. I can only hope that he is near, only waiting for me to retrieve Jack so that we may see each other once more. Time-_

Elizabeth's eyes watched the entrance to her corner, waiting to see the darkness move.

 _-Time and tide waits for no man. My father used to tell me that. The words feel so relevant now, as time surpasses me. I lose track of the days, the months, the seasons. I feel myself in a sort of time capsule, being stuck on this ship. The world around carries on, while we are here, only able to wait as we grow older, wasting days that could be numbered staring out at a deep blue sea. It was months ago now that I realized my birthday had long since passed; and now another approaches. By the time I leave this ship I will have surely aged more than a year. I try not to think about the second trek out of Singapore to a place far away, unknown to me. I wonder how long that journey will take, but fear the worst- perhaps in a year still we shall not be there, and I shall still be writing here my woes, declaring my love for my husband and my father-_

Another bump came from within the maze of crates. Elizabeth closed her journal and tucked it safely under her pillow before standing to peer into the darkness. Naught but the creeks and groans of the wooden hull came. She sighed and crossed her arms with the slight roll of the eye at her own silliness.

'I'm going mad,' she murmured.

 _'Not quite so,'_ a familiar husky voice came from the darkness. _'For madness only truly takes over, when one claims that he is not mad.'_

Jack Sparrow stepped into the golden ring of light cast by the lantern sitting on a nearby crate. It was an eerie sight to behold, a dead man dosed in shadows, but it was one that Elizabeth had rather maddeningly grown accustomed to. It was a ritual torture that her mind frequently put on show for her over the past few months.

Elizabeth's jaw tightened and she lifted her chin, 'If I am not mad then why do I see you? You're dead.'

 _'Ah see,'_ he sat on a nearby barrel, closer to the light, _'you'd be mad if you had forgotten the latter. Why do you see me, a dead man? Easily explained Lizzy-'_ he paused in a moment of thought as he eyed her form- _'You're a pestilent, traitorous, cowhearted, yeastly codpiece, and you feel guilty for being so.'_

'I don't see myself as such.'

 _'You certainly see yourself as a murderer-'_

'-a woman strong enough to make a sacrifice to save those who were not at fault,' she quipped with her eyes slit and her chin up confidently.

' _And then there's poor William, who you lead on,'_ Jack went on, flashing a smile. _'A man entirely absent of fault, who's heart you break every day. I can't imagine the damage that will be done when he finds out that his bonny lass is married off to Cutler Beckett.'_

Elizabeth had no clever retort for this. Her dark brows furrowed defensively. 'And?'

Jack stood from the crate. _'It's nearly been a year since you were due to be married to young William. . . all of which, you've been tied to another. While William wonders what he has done or has not done, under the impression that perhaps there is still a chance for him, once this is all over. You have moved on for him, betrayed, and taken another's name, all while he still calls you his fiancée. You're a coward, Lizzy.'_

'And you're dead-' she bit out angrily through gritted teeth. 'You're not here, only in my head- do tell me who is better off.'

 _'Perhaps I am just in your head,'_ Jack agreed, _'perhaps I am just your conscious, reiterating all of your guilty thoughts. Perhaps I'll always be here, like your evil other half, just to remind you of all your wicked doings. You don't deserve to ever forget, Lizzy.'_ He stepped back, further into the shadows. _'I think if one looks at it like that, I am the one better off.'_

Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut and gripped her fingers in her hair. 'Just go away, please,' she demanded.

'Elizabeth?' she opened her eyes. It was another voice, coming from the place that Jack had stood. It was Will. 'Who do you speak to?'

'I uh-' her eyes searched the darkness behind Will. 'No one, nothing.'

Will glanced down at his boots and cleared his throat. 'We reach Singapore soon,' he said. 'Barbossa has informed me that we shall make port far from the city.'

'Why is that?' Elizabeth uncomfortably paced her small area of the ship, moving books from one crate to another to avoid looking in Will's direction.

'There is a temple in a remote forest,' he informed. 'A map, which Barbossa claims will assist in our escape of the locker, rests inside. We make port there and leave the ship; I will retrieve the map while the rest of the crew makes their way to Singapore by foot, including you.'

'Why afoot?'

'Sao Feng is a cruel man, hunted by the guard in Singapore. He does not like attentions drawn his way. Barbossa assures that it would be in our best interest to do so if we wish to tempt him to our thinking.'

'So we shall be leaving the ship for good?'

'Yes, Feng is suspicious always of the allegiance of other pirates,' Will said. 'He trusts none, not even his own. If he sees that we have a ship of the fleet, he will no doubt wonder who's side we're on.'

Elizabeth made a sound from her throat, acknowledging what was being told to her. Her teeth held tightly to her bottom lip and her cheeks flushed scarlet in shame. She couldn't bring her eyes to look at Will- she never could, and favoured hiding behind her long dark lashes. Looking at him brought unmeasurable bouts of discomfiture- seeing his pitiful boyish eyes only made her feel more wicked. The tension in the air was palpable. All the words left unsaid hung heavily in the humid air. Elizabeth wished that he would retreat back to the main deck of the ship, leaving her to wallow in her own guilt alone.

'Anything else?' she bit out with an air of irritation, though the words were meant to sound casual.

Will stepped forward, forcing Elizabeth's eyes his way. She reluctantly took in the sight of him; sadness clouded his features. His forehead puckered in thought and his jaw tense, she knew all that played on his mind. As expected, the familiar pangs of guilt struck her swiftly, sending her ears hot and palms clammy. Her shaking hand went to brush an absent strand of hair behind her ear as she tried to look at anything but Will, suddenly feeling so defenceless under his scrutinizing gaze. It felt to Elizabeth that when his eyes fell upon her, he knew all of her secrets. As if he could see the ways she had betrayed him; able to watch the scarlet memories which floated in her mind with such clarity it was as if he had witnessed the events himself. Able to watch as she had first taken off her clothes for Lord Beckett and watch as he took her on the stairs of their mansion; able hear her declaration of love and moans for him. This of course was not true and Elizabeth knew it, but Will could indeed see the unrelenting look of guilt that made a home across her features when he looked her way.

'Elizabeth. . .' his voice was soft. 'I just-' he sighed heavily and scratched his head. 'I feel that we haven't spoken, not really, since the day prior to our wedding. . . I wish I knew why. What I could do. At least know for certain so that I may stop asking myself so many questions.'

Elizabeth remained silent, staring at the lantern on the wooden barrel as she tugged nervously at her sleeve. There was nothing that she wanted to say, or for that matter, could say. The only answer that she could give Will would hurt him terribly and amidst the chaos that would soon amass once they reached Singapore, she felt it would be cruel to put more on his mind. Though she knew that this was merely an excuse, for it seemed with each passing month since the doomed wedding, she had another cock and bull reason not to admit her treachery.

'I sometimes feel that if I were not to come speak to you, that we might never speak again,' he continued. 'And I wonder if you would be satisfied with that. I wonder what has lead you to be so.'

'Perhaps it is my nature to be so-' Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest with a huff- 'I cannot answer those questions for you.'

Will let out an agitated breath at her diffidence towards his questioning. Elizabeth's eyes flashed his way for only but a second, long enough to see that the sadness that had clouded his features had been exchanged for slit eyes and a brow that she knew meant irritation.

'All I want is for you to explain to me how two people are happy- dressing for their wedding, and then-' he took three steps forward, sending Elizabeth two steps back- 'and then suddenly they are mere strangers.'

'I cannot answer those questions for you,' Elizabeth reiterated coldly, recoiling further into herself.

'I thought that day when I saw you on Isla Cruces that you had come for me, unable to bear to be without me, but not a word was spoken,' his voice was desperate. 'Now I wonder why you left the prison in the first place. How it was that the heart of Davy Jones went missing, why Jack thought that it should be safely in the jar. I wonder why you were so eager to fetch Norrington and why it is that the two of you were spared of the prison once more in Port Royal, despite the warrants against you. And why now, Beckett, the man working with your father, possesses the heart.'

Elizabeth had paled at his words, but put on a poker face. Her golden eyes burned into him. 'Did you come here to enquire of the state of our relationship or to proclaim that I am a traitor?'

'I do not proclaim that,' he assured with a shake of his head. 'Only that you might have made a deal which would lead you to be so. For that I would not ridicule you, Elizabeth. If you would speak to me to that I may understand- so that I might help-'

'-there is no help that you might give me, Will,' she went to her makeshift bed and sat down. With her head held down and her fingers clutched tight to the wooden edge, she put in her last word on the matter. 'I do not wish to speak of this anymore.'

Will stepped forward once more, and with a deep breath so closely came to denying her wishes and argued further. Elizabeth was thankful when no words passed his lips, and instead he turned, his footsteps furthering through the maze of crates, until finally he was gone. She breathed a sigh of relief and moved to her pillow to retrieve her journal once more.

 _Cutler,_ Elizabeth began to write. She thought of the ship that she had seen thrice following the commandeered frigate. Once just before the journey through the canal and then just thereafter, and once more only a month prior just as they made port at Marshall Island. It was the same company ship and Elizabeth knew that it must have been commissioned by Cutler to follow her trail. When the crew left the frigate behind once reaching Singapore, she would leave behind the journal with hopes that a member of the commissioned ship would get it to her husbands hands.

 _I made it to Tia Dalma, and there she raised a man who I thought to be dead. Barbossa, who now takes us to Singapore, and thereafter to the locker. A journey which will take us to Jack, if successful. Our journey to Singapore holds two purposes- convince Sao Feng the Pirate Lord to convene the Brethren Court (I believe Barbossa has the same needs as we, to please Tia Dalma for his return) and to find the navigational charts which will help us return to the land of the living. We shall abandoned the ship and make our way afoot to Singapore, for Feng is suspicious and would not be pleased for attention to be drawn his way. Barbossa fears that if he sees our crew in possession of a company ship, he will question our loyalties and deny our requests. I intend to leave this journal upon this ship as we leave in hopes that it will be returned to you._

Elizabeth ran the soft quill over her cheek in thought.

 _I love you. I long to see you once more._

 _Elizabeth._

WRITERS NOTE:

Thanks for reading it means so much! It's been becoming exceedingly difficult to write- it seems every time I write I new chapter I think, 'Cool I TOTALLY have time to start writing the next!' And then something pops up that just takes up my free time. As I think I said before I am currently dealing with Visa stuff and the stress of it has basically turned my mind to mush. With most of these chapters I wrote them in an hour with no problem, whereas these last few chapters have really just been difficult. When I've tried to write I just end up staring at my laptop screen until my eyes hurt and I claim I'll do it tomorrow. . . and then I repeat. But hey the next chapter is already in production, yay!


	15. A Call to All

Purple lightening whipped the graphite sky. A deafening cry from the heavens which drowned out all other sounds of nature split the humid air, its untamed fury rolling through the forests and over mountains, slowly ebbing into a distant roar. The heavy rain that fell from the angry skies beat down onto the forest floor in large droplets, having gathered into pools on leaves before making the rest of the journey to the earth. Elizabeth was grateful for this violent weather. This was true even as the showers turned the ground to slick mud, making her journey tedious underfoot. For any weather to her was welcomed, so long as her feet were on land, with each step bringing her closer to their destination.

A large moss covered tree fallen in a storm long forgotten crossed Elizabeth's path. Just as she had watched Barbossa climb over, she stepped on a jagged rock and threw one leg over. It was a task easy even for the aging man and difficult for her, for she had the idea to strap as many weapons possible to her lower limbs. An ill-conceived plan of her own, born of fear that she and the crew might be left without if Sao Feng was as cruel as Barbossa claimed. For a moment she closed her eyes as she sat upon the tree. She let the heavy drops of water fall onto her tanned face, imagining that with the real dirt the rain also cleared away the stale memories of the long journey aboard the wretched frigate. It made her feel renewed, like she had never been so lethargic and passive. Like once so long ago, Elizabeth was ready to take on the harsh task before her in stride.

'Miss Swann!' Barbossa barked from a distance down the winding path, his stern voice demanding that she keep up.

Elizabeth sighed as she slid off of the mossy tree, back onto the muddy path.

It was only she and Barbossa making this portion of the journey- the others had left an hour before with designs on making it into the sewers of Singapore. In the mean time she and Barbossa would search for Sao Feng's hide out from above; Barbossa would have eyes on the streets while Elizabeth would scout out the canals. The separation had to due with notoriety. 'I meself will be recognized by many of the guard,' he had explained in the charting room just before they disembarked the ship. 'An' there ain't many a woman donned in a mans garb- Miss Swann shall be noticed too. We wait for you lot to reach the city before we enter to draw less attention.' With that, the motley crew had parted.

'Coming!' Elizabeth called to him. Once more she was stepping through puddles, uncaring that the water soaked though her boots, following Barbossa up the winding path. Her eyes carefully scanned the forest ahead, searching for any sign of the city edge where they intended to wait until nightfall. There were only trees and more trees. 'When shall we be there?' her voice strained to be louder than the falling rain.

'Soon,' was Barbossa's curt response with a dismissive wave of his hand. 'Quicker if ye shut it!'

Elizabeth sent daggers to his back with her slit eyes, reprimanding her compeer for his loutish behavior that he had exhibited throughout that afternoon. A roar of thunder drowned out the expletive that she muttered with him in mind.

A twig cracked underfoot nearby. She needn't turn to see who it was. _'Manners, Lizzy,'_ came the disapproving voice of Jack Sparrow. He ambled, as if still drunk even in death, to her side. _'You are, though rather questionably-'_ he grimaced, obviously unbelieving of his own words- _'a lady.'_

An agitated sigh escaped her lips. 'You know I really am trying my best to save you,' she argued, 'which you _don't_ deserve. Perhaps just a bit of forgiveness is called for.'

 _'I do hate to reiterate myself, but I wouldn't have needed saving if you hadn't killed me love.'_

'If I hadn't then we would have all been dead, you along with us, and then who would have saved you? Hmm?' she raised one brow high, begging him to argue with the simple truth. 'Exactly,' she continued, with no answer. 'We would all be rotting in hell if not for me.'

Elizabeth stepped over another large tree and Jack followed suit.

 _'Can't argue with that logic,'_ Jack agreed. _'Though it does stand to reason that you certainly didn't have that same logic when you killed me. I think you would have quiet happily lived out your life in your marble mansion without a thought to inconvenience yourself with a task such as this. But your hand was forced.'_

'You don't know that,' Elizabeth said, her eyes only able to watch the muddy path. She knew that what Jack said was mostly accurate. 'At the time what was on my mind was getting back to Port Royal, alive, and giving the crew a chance. Especially Will, who you like to so frequently remind me that I have wronged.'

 _'Ah-'_ Jack nodded sarcastically, as if believing what she said. _'Whatever the reason, can't say I blame you. You're a pirate, though and though.'_

'Why is it that you can't decide to admire my treachery against you or condemn it, Jack?'

 _'I shouldn't have underestimated you, I suppose,'_ he let out a sigh. _'I did, and for that I did not expect what should have been easy to see coming. And so I condemned it.'_

'Don't underestimate me now,' she said firmly, her dark eyes watching him once more. 'I am going to save you. I only hope that doing so might earn your forgiveness.' Seeing that he seemed less than convinced, she added, 'Barbossa and Tia Dalma work for the same goal as I- even Cutler.'

A breathy laugh passed Jack's lips. _'Ah, Satan and his associates determined to save me,'_ he said in a jesting way. _'Seems only fitting.'_

The two walked in silence for a moment. Elizabeth couldn't help but let a smile pass her lips as she remembered the one moment that made her hesitate on that day so long ago; the memory of the now dead man and she dancing and singing, abandoned on a beach with little hope. She wondered if something so innocent could happen between them once more after such malice, but doubted that it would. That was if he could even be brought back.

 _'Do you know what your husband does now?'_

Elizabeth's brow pulled together curiously, 'No'. Her fingers absentmindedly went to the diamond ring on the chain around her neck. 'Do you?'

' _He has sent Davy Jones to kill pirates. All pirates that have no information pertaining the nine lords.'_

She scoffed. 'And? I hardly care about the lives of raping, thieving, murderers.'

 _'Even if it meant he might have your crew killed?'_

'The Pearl's crew will be spared of all harm,' she waved her hand. 'It was my one wish when I gave him the heart. Besides, did you not once dream of being the last pirate captain on the seas? The grim hum of killings seems to hold a silver lining for you Jack Sparrow.'

Jack acknowledged what she said in what was perhaps contentment that her words brought. _'You're wicked, Lizzy.'_ Despite his claim of such wickedness, he gazed at her admirably.

'And I wonder from who I first drew inspiration from to be so,' she quipped.

Before Jack could utter another word, Barbossa's barking voice split the air like thunder. 'MISS SWANN!' With that, he had disappeared and Elizabeth, suspecting that the irritable man had called her more than once, scurried up the path towards him.

The golden lights of Singapore loomed through the parting trees.

* * *

Elizabeth let out a defeated sigh and snapped Jack's compass shut. Once more she was disappointed by the enchanted item. Not moments before she had nearly crossed paths with EIC soldiers- she couldn't help but feel hopeful that perhaps her husband was aboard on of the many ships in the bay. But it was not to be. And so she climbed into the thin boat that she was to use to scout the canals in search of Sao Feng's hideout.

'Some men have died, and some are alive-' Elizabeth sung to herself as she gripped onto the slimy wood of the docks for support, carefully lowering herself into the neglected and rather small boat- 'and others sail on the sea.' She eyed the black water blanketed in mist, worried of what might lurk beneath. Her grip tightened on the dock for fear of falling in.

After a moment of balancing herself, she brought herself down to sit. Her rump met a cool puddle in the bottom of the boat. _'Fantastic,'_ she thought bitterly. It had only been an hour since she had swiped new clothes to blend in and they were already dirty. She dreaded to think of what it might be that she could be sitting in, but put it out of her mind. With an ore in hand, she begun rowing.

Singapore's canals reminded Elizabeth of a jungle- instead of vines and trees, there were moss soaked wooden dock legs and bridges, all cluttered together. Her eyes searched for any signs, but only found themselves lost by the confused and dark scenery. 'With the keys to the cage and the devil to pay,' she peeked under the rim of her hat up at the many bridges that she passed under, 'we lay to Fiddler's Green. The bell has been raised from it's watery grave. . . hear it's sepulchral tone-'

Soldiers marched over the bridge just ahead. Elizabeth watched, keen to see anyone that she might recognize when- there, it was Ian Mercer. She wished that she could call out to the man leading the soldiers, but alas, she remained silent. For all she knew Barbossa could be near and she couldn't risk a conversation with the enemy being overheard. A smile passed her lips- she had been right about the ship and hoped that Mercer had discovered the journal left behind.

 _Hisss,_ a firework on the bridge she passed over went off, sending golden sparks cascading in onto the water just behind the boat.

'A call to all, pay heed the squall,' Elizabeth squinted, unable to see if the canal continued on, 'turn your sails to home. Yo, ho, haul together-' she breathed a sigh, seeing that the canal did end, or at least became too thin to navigate beyond her position. The buildings approached were lit with lights the colour of roses- she wondered if the red lights meant the same as it did to Europeans. If so, she supposed that it was a better place than any to wonder, for it would be only women hiding in corners, like herself. She stopped the boat at the dock and carelessly threw the rope around a wooden pole as she climbed out. 'Hoist the colours high. . . heave, ho, thief-'

'- _Thief_ and beggar,' an Asian man emerged from the darkness of an alleyway, followed by two others. _'Never_ say we die.'

Elizabeth took half a step back and held her breath.

'A dangerous song to be singing. . .' he continued, taking one more step towards her, 'for any who are ignorant of it's meaning. Particularly a woman.'

She put her hand at her waist, ready to pull out her dagger.

'Particularly a woman _alone_ ,' he corrected himself.

'What makes you think she's alone?' Barbossa's demanding voice came as he revealed himself from the darkness.

The men turned to this new threat. Their leader stepped towards Barbossa. 'You protect her?'

Elizabeth pulled her knife and held it to the mans neck. As expected she heard weapons being pulled to the ready behind her. 'And what makes you think I need protecting?'

'Your masters expecting us,' Barbossa informed, 'and an unexpected death'd cast a slight pall on our meeting.' His last was directed for Elizabeth.

She let the man go with a sigh.

'Pick those feet up,' a man shouted. On cue a line of soldiers passed close by. 'Eyes front!'

One of the men motioned for the group to gather near the wall as he shh'd them quiet. Once the soldiers passed, he led them into what looked to be a sewer entrance.

They weren't underground for long. Soon the winding path led to a set of stone stairs, which led to a busy street. It was unlike the rest of Singapore, which had already seemed to be tucked away in its huts, readying for sleep. This area was full to the brim with merchants selling items that Elizabeth suspected might be illegal and the shady night goers perusing these collections. Women so clad that it would seem shocking even to the whores in London stood smiling on corners, beckoning in their drunken prey. Inside one of the buildings that they passed by came the sounds of a grueling fight, men shouting and cheering.

'Have you heard anything from Will,' Elizabeth asked, forcing her eyes away from the intriguing contents on a rickety cart that passed by.

'I trust young Turner to acquire the charts,' Barbossa began, 'and you to remember your place in the presence of Captain Sao Feng.' It was a warning.

Elizabeth put her chin up defiantly- although she wouldn't admit it, it was a warning that was entirely warranted. She struggled with authority, even more with the authority of a man, and Barbossa had observed that well. 'Is he that terrifying?' her question was doubtful and almost sarcastic.

'He's much like myself, but absent my merciful nature and sense of fair play,' he informed.

A large wooden door, perhaps one that was once ornate, seemed to be their destination. Sao Feng's man knocked at the door and it was quickly opened to them. Directly inside the door was a table, and after that bamboo room dividers. It was hot and humid- steam filled the air.

'Weapons, please,' a man directed the instruction at Barbossa, who promptly stripped himself of his guns and swords.

Elizabeth meekly handed over her dagger and sword. The other weapons on her burnt against her skin as she stared down, hoping that it was not suspected that she had more than just the two. She stepped forward to pass, but the mans hand went up, halting her.

'Do you think that because she is a woman we would not suspect her of treachery?'

Barbossa gave her a seething glance, as if to say that she best not have any hidden weapons. 'Well, when you put it that way. . .'

'Remove. Please.'

Elizabeth gave a scathing look to the man as she aggressively removed her hat and jacket, throwing the latter at one of the guards. This revealed four pistols, which she placed on the table full of weapons, along with the holster. She pulled two knives from her hips and two small bombs from the pockets of her trousers, and then two long daggers which had been secured to her thighs by leather straps. There was only one left- she grimaced at Barbossa as she reached into her trousers to pull out the musket that had been held to her leg by her boot.

The aging man gave her a tight smile and Elizabeth stepped forward once more, only to be stopped again.

'Remove,' the guard repeated, 'Please.' A sickening smile stretched across his features and let Elizabeth know what he meant.

Resentfully, she tugged down her trousers, feeling thankful that she had chosen a lawn shirt long enough to spare her dignity. With her jaw held tight, she kicked the trousers bitterly at the perverted man, and raised a brow, daring him to ask her to remove more. With a nod of his head and an outstretched arm, he welcomed them into the bathhouse.

Elizabeth timidly followed Barbossa with her arms to her side, trying to spare herself of mortification- the steam that rose from the wooden floors threatened to send her make-do skirt above her head. The large tattooed men of the bathhouse watched her as she watched them, their eyes following the curves of her body as she passed them by. She felt her cheeks flush scarlet, for only one man had ever seen so much of her flesh and now at least thirty had all at once. Though the embarrassment did not plague her mind for long, as her eyes studied the men around her, she became both intrigued and disgusted. In the tubs of hot water sat men- large men, some covered in tattoos and others covered in barnacles. It reminded her of Jones' crew- she wondered how long one must sit in water to have sea life begin to grow. She couldn't pry her eyes away from the lurid details, nor could she stop herself from visibly shuddering.

They came to a halt before a platform that emitted the largest cloud of steam from it's pores. On it stood a man and two women. The man turned, revealing his scarred face, his arms held out in show. Barbossa bowed, and motioned for Elizabeth to follow suit; she did the best she could, unwilling to bend over too far in her current apparel.

'Captain Barbossa,' Sao Feng said. 'Welcome to Singapore.' He held a red cloth to his nose. 'More steam,' he instructed one of the two women at his side.

The woman did as told and pulled one of the many hanging stones. As requested, more steam rushed through the platform.

'I understand that you have a _request_ \- his hand moved, as if searching for the right words- 'to make of me.'

'More of a proposal to put to ye,' Barbossa corrected with a nod. 'I've a venture underway and I find myself in need of a ship and a crew.'

 _'Hmm,'_ Feng scratched his bald head with his long nails. 'It's an odd coincidence.'

'Because you happen to have a ship and a crew that you don't need?' Elizabeth interjected, feeling the tension in the air rise.

Feng seemed thoughtful. 'No. . . because earlier this day, not far from here, a thief broke into my most revered uncle's temple and tried to make off with these-' he pulled the charts from a mans hands. The colour drained from Elizabeth and Barbossa's faces as they glanced at one another. 'The navigational charts- the route to the Farthest Gate.' The words were bitten out as Feng tried to hide his rising anger. He tossed the charts to one of his guards. 'Wouldn't it be amazing. . . if this venture of yous, took you to the world beyond this one?'

'It would strain credulity at that,' Barbossa tried to say in a light tone.

Feng studied the two for a moment before nodding at the men by one of the many tubs full of water. The men pulled a wooden pole up, pulling with it a gasping man from the dark water. It was Will.

'This is the thief. Is his face familiar to you?'

Elizabeth held her jaw tight and eyes wide as she shook her head.

'Then I guess he has no further need for it,' Feng said, pulling a wooden stake from his side and readying to plunge it into Will's face.

Just as the stake guided by his hand lunged towards Will, Elizabeth couldn't help but let out a cry in protest as she held her hands to her hands over her mouth. Feng halted, but he had accomplished his means. Elizabeth had given up their plan; her face drained of all colour.

The scarred man turned to face them once more with a knowing scowl. 'You come into _my_ city. . .' he stalked towards them as he sheathed his wooden stake. 'And you betray my hospitality-

'Sao Feng, I assure you-' Barbossa shook his head- 'I had no idea-'

' _-That he would get caught!_ ' Feng snapped, his voice showing his indignation. As he stepped towards Barbossa his loyal guards stepped too. But soon the thoughtfulness returned to his features and he ambled back to the steaming platform, his long nails once more scratching his head. 'You intend to attempt the voyage to Davy Jones' locker. But I cannot help but wonder. . .' he turned to face the intruders. ' _Why?_ '

Barbossa tossed one of the nine pieces of eight to Feng. Elizabeth recognized it as the silver coin that Tia Dalma had shown her so early in their journey. Feng held is to his ear; even his tanned skin went pale as he listened to the ringing. 'The song has been sung,' Barbossa said, just had she had. 'The time is upon us. We must convene the Brethren Court. As one of the nine pirate lords, you must honor the call.'

Feng held the coin tightly in his palm, his irritation growing more apparent by the second. 'More stream,' he said first calmly, but when no stream came, he demanded curtly, 'More steam!'

Elizabeth eyed Barbossa- they both knew what the delay in steam meant- their idiot crew was finally below and ready to assist if needed.

'There is a price on all our heads. . .' Feng sauntered around the small area. 'It is true- it seems the only way a pirate can turn a profit anymore. . .' he turned his attention to Barbossa. '. . . is by betraying other pirates.'

'We must put our differences aside,' Barbossa implored with a wave of his hand. 'The First Brethren Court gave us rule of the seas, but now that rule is being challenged by Lord Cutler Beckett-'

'Against the East India Trading Company- what value is the _Brethren Court_?' he spat the words out. Elizabeth could only watch as Feng grew more impatient. She felt that she had to say something- had to inspire Feng to fight, before Barbossa blew it all. 'What can any of us do?'

'You can fight!' Elizabeth stepped forward with all the confidence she could muster. One of the large tattooed guards grabbed her arm. 'Get off me!' she demanded as she pulled her arm away before facing Feng with her chin up. 'You are Sao Feng, the _pirate lord_ of Singapore. You command in an age of piracy where bold captains sail free waters. Where waves aren't measured in feet, but in increments of fear, and those who pass the test become legend. Would you have that era come to an end of your watch? The most notorious pirates from around the world will be uniting against our enemy- and yet you sit here, _cowering_ in your bathwater!'

Sao Feng stepped off of his platform, towards Elizabeth. She took a step back, fearing she said too much. 'Elizabeth Swann. . .' he hissed as he paced around her. 'There is more to you than meets the eye, isn't there? And the eye. . . does not go wanting.'

Elizabeth felt goosebumps cross her skin at his words, feeling that he knew more of her than she would have liked.

'But I cannot help but notice you have failed to answer my question,' he put a finger in the air. 'What is it that you seek in Davy Jones' Locker?'

'Jack Sparrow,' Will answered from the tub where he still stood. 'He's one of the nine pirate lords.'

Sao Feng's irritation with them seemed to reach a boiling point as he made no attempt to hide the rage that crossed his face. 'The only reason. . . I would want Jack Sparrow returned from the land of the dead. . . is so I can send him back _myself!_ ' He kicked over a wooden table, sending glasses shattering to the wooden floor, in his fit of rage.  
Barbossa advanced on Feng from across the room, 'Jack Sparrow holds one of the nine pieces of eight,' he informed through gritted teeth, 'He failed to pass it along to a successor before he died. So we must go and get him back.'

'So. . . you admit,' Feng's angry eyes went from a guard back to Barbossa, 'you have deceived me. Weapons!'

As commanded, every man in the bathhouse pulled out their swords and guns, readying to attack the intruders. Elizabeth and Barbossa backed towards each other, readying for their backup plan to kick into action.

'Sao Feng, I assure you, our intentions are strictly honourable,' Barbossa lied as he tried to give a friendly smile. As he said it, as planned, their swords came up through the spaces in the wooden floor below. They looked at each other, weapons in hand, shocked into confusion that the ill-conceived plan had worked.

Feng moved to a thin guard, who's tattoos were dripping, and held a knife to his throat. 'Drop your weapons or I kill the man!'

'Kill him,' Barbossa barked with a short look of disbelief to Elizabeth. 'He's not our man.'

'If he's not with you and he's not with us,' Will began, 'who's he with?'

In an instant, all hell broke loose, as several of the bamboo dividers fell, sending company soldiers firing into the bathhouse. Elizabeth fought one of the soldiers who lunged at her first. He was unwavering as he swung her way, until their swords locked and she got a look at him. It was Private Murtogg.

'Miss Elizabeth!' he hissed as he pulled his sword away.

Only a brief smile was able to be shared as one of Feng's men challenged Murtogg and Elizabeth turned to free Will from the pole that he was bound to.

'Will!' she swung at the ropes that held him and tossed him her second sword as he shook his bindings free.

'Look out! Look behind you!' he warned.

Elizabeth turned and to her shock just then feet away stood Mercer, his gun pointed at her. Before she could react, he fired, killing one of Sao Feng's girls just passed her. The bullet was so close it passed her hair. She gave him a seething look before Barbossa grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the doors.

'Ready!' A commander shouted, sending a group of soldiers to their positions. 'Fire!'

Before they could fire, a loud bang and smoke rising sent the floor the soldiers stood on, collapsing into the basement. The rest of the Pearls crew emerged from this new opening, guns blazing as the fighting moved to the streets. Elizabeth fought off both Feng's men and company soldiers alike as she made her way through the crowded streets, with eyes on Barbossa not far ahead. She kicked one of the men into the canal before turning on an attacker who's sword she met behind her.

It was Mercer.

'You almost shot me,' she hissed through gritted teeth. 'You're lucky I-'

' _Almost_ ,' Mercer spat out as he lowered his sword. 'You're only lucky I'd lose my head if I did. Now give me the compass or-'

Elizabeth's brow gathered. 'Why should I?'

'I begin the journey back tonight. With any luck I can return the compass to Lord Beckett before you've returned to this world so he may find you- why he would want to do that I cannot comprehend.'

'COMPANY! MAKE READY. SET. FIRE!'

 _BOOM_ , a bright explosion went off, halting the gunfire.

'Do you have my journal for Cutler,' she asked, ignoring his uncivil words.

Mercer sighed and reached into his inner breast pocket to show her. 'I will give it to him upon my return.'

'Thank you,' Elizabeth bit out. 'Why is it that you return tonight? Have you accomplished what you came for?'

The unpleasant mans head cocked. 'No, one of your own crew did that for me,' he articulated. 'What was it that Sao Feng said about pirates able to turn a profit?' he smiled. 'It seems you may take comfort in that you're not the only traitor aboard your ship, Lady Beckett.'

Elizabeth's eyes slit curiously at Mercer's words. She wondered at who it could be, but something told her that she already knew. Will. The only one with enough nerve, or perhaps lack of good judgement, to betray an entire guild of pirates. She pulled Jack's compass from her hip with a snap from the string she had used to secure it there and shoved it into Mercers outstretched hand. With one final glare she pushed past him.

Her feet carried her through the city, now cluttered with bodies, her eyes scanning for her crew. A second explosion went off, this one much more powerful than the last. She gripped onto the bamboo railing of the thin bridge she stood on. Fire works and gunpowder shook the city and sent colourful sparks in the air.

'Miss Swann!' Barbossa called from the other side. The crew stood in a group just then joined by Will and Sao Feng's men. 'You have the charts?'

'And better yet,' Will was saying. He tossed the rolled up charts to Barbossa. 'A ship and a crew.'

'Where's Sao Feng?'

'He'll cover our escape and meet us at shipwreck cove.'

Elizabeth's hunch was confirmed. She eyed Will in disbelief, realizing that perhaps he really would do just as she and betray those who trusted him to meet his own ends. Part of her felt strangely betrayed, despite the fact that it was she who was committing the ultimate betrayal. An even larger part of herself only hoped that his scheming didn't clash with hers.

'This way, be quick,' one of Sao Feng's men said.

With one final look at each other, the crew followed, finally setting off on their final journey to the world beyond this one. They traveled through the sewers once more, beneath the burning city, with eyes on the bay where they would find Feng's fleet. It didn't take long for the ship to set sail, for the men were keen to leave before the company caught up. But as Elizabeth knew otherwise, she found herself sitting on the stairs, toying with the short hem of her make shift dress.

'Secure provisions and stow the cargo!' Mister Gibbs was commanding as he himself worked to ready the already sailing ship.

Elizabeth stood to move out of his way as he made his way down the stairs with a wooden box full of rum. A sigh escaped her lips and she lethargically approached the only person on the ship she could sort of call a friend.

Tia Dalma stood at the port side, watching the water.

'There's no place left for Sao Feng to cower,' Elizabeth said, taking the spot next to her. 'Do you think he will honor the call?'

'I canna say,' she uttered softly. 'There is an evil on de seas, that even the most staunch an' bloodt-risty pirates hav' come to fear.'


	16. In This World or the Next

_One step forward. And then two._

 _The dark corridor ended and the next chamber came with one last step. Golden light flooded around Elizabeth as she passed through the final doorway. As her eyes adjusted to the glittering chamber, she took in the familiar sight. It was the entrance hall of her fathers manor, lit by the rising sun in the east. A sight she had taken in countless times before._

 _Elizabeth let the tips of her fingers run over the ornate wooden newel. It wobbled due to the years that she had swung on it after racing down the stairs each morning, usually as her father called from the carriage condemning her tardiness with a smile._

 _But her doting father was not present in this dreamland. His frantic words of things to do and people to greet did not echo through the manors walls. The comforting hum of servants cooking and cleaning was absent too. Even the birds on the roof couldn't be heard singing as they built their nests. All the little sounds that Elizabeth liked most were gone. All was silent._

 _'Finally,' a familiar haughty voice split the air. 'What's taken so long?'_

 _A figure that had not been there at first now stood by one of the large bright windows. Though the blinding light confused Elizabeth's eyes and veiled the figures features, she knew who the figure was._

 _'I don't know,' she heard herself say. 'I've been trying to get back to you-'_

 _Lord Beckett turned with his arms crossed over his chest. He rested casually against the window edge, his posture lax and weary as he leaned to one side as usual. 'What are you on about? We really must be going, you've taken hours to dress. It's nearly dusk already.'_

 _Elizabeth's brow pulled together curiously. What he said was true, the sun that she had been so blinded by just a moment before now only cast small streams of sunlight through the drapes of the hall. 'I've. . .' the streams moved even as she watched, bringing night closer and closer by the second. 'I don't want to go,' her voice cracked under the stress of tears. 'I feel like I've been going for so long.'_

 _'Then we stay,' he said with a shrug._

 _'Yes,' barely came from Elizabeth's throat as she gave a short nod._

 _Her feet slowly brought her across the darkening hall, towards the center. By the time she reached it, the last of the golden rays of light had gone, leaving the two only able to see by the moonlight seeping in from the windows. Elizabeth outstretched her hand for Lord Beckett, who still stood by the window, just a shadow now. As wordlessly beckoned, he approached._

 _The tips of her fingers touched the fine silk of his waist coat first and trailed up to his neck before she put the back of her hand to his cheek. She stepped forward, close enough to him that she could feel his breath against her lips and smell the tobacco on his skin. Elizabeth felt that she could have stood there forever, marveling at how real he felt. But it was only a second that the two were so tame before their lips clashed in a passionate frenzy. Tongues intertwined as their hands roamed each others bodies like desperate beggars starved of food. In a blur of white knuckles and scarlet sighs Elizabeth found her back to the cold marble floor, it's icy surface sending chills across her body, pleasantly contrasting the intense fire that had not been lit within her in so long._

 _Lord Beckett ran his hand up her smooth leg, bringing the silk and lace layers of her skirts with it. As his be ringed fingers slowly crept up the soft skin of her inner thigh towards the valley of her desires, he brought his lips to her neck. Elizabeth closed her eyes and dedicated each kiss to memory, knowing that soon it would only be that. She let her fingers run up his back and into his hair as he continued kissing her neck and then her breasts._

 _'Cutler,' she heard in her voice, somewhere far outside of herself._

 _Just as the sun had set and night had come, it rose once more. The hall which they found themselves entwined in once more filled with ethereal light, casting streams of colours across the marble floor. Elizabeth laid with her golden hair cast around her head like a halo as she watched the lights cross the crystal chandelier which hung from the ceiling like a glory cloud, sending fractures of light all around. As she watched the rainbow orbs pass through and felt her husband over her, worshipping her body, she felt that she may have died and gone to heaven._

 _'Elizabeth,' a voice said. 'Elizabeth what is this?'_

 _It was Will, standing in the doorway. Her brown eyes found his and her heart plummeted._

Elizabeth woke with a gasp. It was only a dream, yet it felt so real. Her heart pounded against her aching chest, her skin stretched over her bones acting like a drum. A frantic hand, her hand, went to wipe the dew from her forehead and her fingers trailed to her neck, stiff and sore from sleeping upright. With a frustrated sob rested her elbows on the wooden desk before her, which currently displayed a colourful array of bottled demons, and let her face fall into her hands. As the image of a horrified Will burned in her skull, Elizabeth was left wondering if the rising guilt like bile in her throat that she felt would hold any likeness to the guilt she would feel when faced with his real reaction to her deception.

It was safe to say that she didn't care to know.

To combat the feeling of sick Elizabeth reached out for one of the bottles- it was a bottle of amber rum that she had eyed for hours before falling asleep. When taken in hand the smooth liquid sloshed about, tempting her to drown out the taxing thoughts that wracked her mind. Though temptation was hardly necessary- for the last months of this journey Elizabeth found herself frequently passing the time by spending her nights alone, riding the waves of drunken bliss. Of course it didn't take much drinking- with little food in her belly a couple of large gulps sent her body reeling. She would enjoy the feeling of being so light and guilt free as she eventually fell asleep watching the wooden ceiling spin overhead. It was the only way she could silence her conscience even if only for a little while.

Elizabeth put the bottle to her lips, but for the first time in months hesitated to drink herself to a few hours of peace. With a sigh she put the bottle back onto the desk with a thud. She wanted to forget the brief glimpse of Wills devastated face, but she didn't want to forget the rest of the dream. It seemed that her dreams were the only way she still knew her own husband.

'What's wrong with you, Lizzy?' Elizabeth asked herself as she leaned back in the leather chair, imagining that if Jack were still around then he would have asked the same question. Since they had passed through the icy fields and through the glacier gate, Jack had disappeared. He no longer crept from the shadows or appeared when she was alone. More often than not she speculated as to why this was, but could come to no conclusion better than that she was simply mad.

After a moment of thought, she decided that fresh air was a better idea than rum.

Through the wooden doors of the captains cabins, the ship deck was dark and quiet. The soft breeze of damp air hit Elizabeth's skin. She took a deep breath in as she peered out at the unchanging world around her. No land to see, no sea life, no birds. Even the air felt like nothing- neither cool nor warm. It had been so for five days. Elizabeth's fingers ran through her dry sun bleached hair as she meandered across the deck to the only person she felt that she could speak to. Tia Dalma stood near the bow, watching the water that Elizabeth imagined she so desperately longed to return to. After a brief hesitation, she approached the only ally of hers on the ship. She leaned on the wooden railing just as her fellow woman and breathed in the ocean air.

'It's an odd place,' Elizabeth noted out loud as her eyes looked into the heavens at all the glittering stars. 'I've never seen the stars so bright, nor water so calm.'

'We in de passageway,' Tia nodded. 'De world between ours and de farthest. Where dead men taken by de sea pass through in search of peace.'

Elizabeth looked over the side of the ship into the glossy black water. The only thing that she could see was the mirror image of the stars above. She wanted to ask if they would be able to see dead men should any soul pass by, but as the image of Lord Beckett on his way to the next world crossed her mind, she pulled her lips tight. 'Do you know how soon we might be there?'

A midshipmen, one of Sao Feng's men, stalked by. Tia eyed him suspiciously until he passed. 'To Jack Sparrow?' she asked, her voice lower than before as she stepped closer to Elizabeth. 'It come soon. Back to de mortal world. . . come when we- _if we-_ ,' she corrected herself- 'unlock de secrets of de charts and find passage back.'

'So you mean there is a chance that we rescue Jack and still we may travel for months?'

'No,' Tia gave a dark smile, one that Elizabeth had learned not to be so frightened of over the past year, but it seemed then that she was once more given reason to be. 'Da water here hold no life. We travel for a week at most.'

Elizabeth didn't need Tia Dalma to explain what she meant. If they did not escape the locker within the week they would certainly face their final end. She bit the soft raw skin of her inner cheek at the thought of never making it back to the mortal world, to her father, or to Lord Beckett. A tear escaped the corner of her eye which she quickly wiped away.

'Why you love 'im?'

'Cutler?' Elizabeth confirmed lowly after a glance over her shoulder towards the darkened deck. 'I don't know. I can't remember what it's like to not love him. I think back to days when I did not know him, when I thought I loved others and yet I feel I loved him then too.'

'Den why you cry?' she pushed. 'Soon you see him.'

'I. . .' Elizabeth's brown eyes searched the dark water for words to put to her feelings. 'It's a horrible feeling that I've had since I left him. I fear that in this strange place I may just pass him by, he entering deaths gates just as I leave-' her knuckles went white as she gripped onto the ships railing in an attempt not to cry- 'A feeling that when I return he may not be waiting for me.'

Elizabeth felt Tia Dalma's hand rest on her shoulder.

'I have an image of him stuck in my mind, the last I saw of him. Standing in the prison corridor in the moonlight-' she used her sleeve to wipe away the blurring tears that pooled in her eyes- 'It is there when I close my eyes so harrowing. I think there is a reason that I have done well to remembered it so, for it was the end. I fear that soon I might know that it is the last memory I have of him to join only the few I have collected.'

'De end is not always so,' she whispered. 'We return to de mortal world within de week, an den. . . he be there.'

'How can you be certain?'

Tia Dalma held out a large silver locket that hung around her neck. 'I have waited many year for de man who I love. . .' she opened the locket and it begun a haunting tune which seemed to echo across the black waters. 'I watch the world me by, imprisoned inside of dis wretched tomb. Always waiting for 'im to come back to me, to be again de man him once was. An soon, I be wit 'im once more. I _feel_ dat I be wit 'im once more. An you, Elizabeth, you too will be returned to de man what you love.' She backed away into the dark shadows of the deck. 'I feel it.'

Elizabeth didn't watch as she did, but instead sat onto a crate with a sigh. One of her fingers went to toy with the ring on her gold necklace as she thought. She wondered at what Tia Dalma had said and if there was any truth to it. _'The bloody woman only appeared out of thin air into your chambers and brought a dead man to life, surely she's right in saying something so simple,'_ she told herself. It had to be true, after all that had happened it seemed silly to question what the haunting woman said. Elizabeth wanted to believe it was true. And so she turned her attentions to the coming horizon, just barely visible in the darkness. A mist obscured a perfect view, but Elizabeth tried to imagine that as she grew closer to that horizon, she grew closer to all that she missed. A week- only a week, as Tia Dalma said, and she would be back into the warm embrace of the living world.

Footsteps on the wooden deck approached. Elizabeth kept her eyes on the horizon, but turned her head to hear what was going to be said. She didn't need to look to know who it was.

'How long do we continue not talking?' Will asked with little hesitation.

Elizabeth looked at the dark wooden deck and bit her lip. How long had it been? Over a year since they were to wed and yet she had spoken to him only a handful of times, perhaps less. 'Once we rescue Jack everything will be fine,' the lie came across her lips so easily that Elizabeth felt her cheeks burn scarlet in shame. They would find Jack and everything would continue on the same, she hiding within the walls of the ship and he moping about with designs to speak to her. Or, as Elizabeth imagined was the worst possible scenario, Will would assume all their troubles over and so attempt to resume their relationship accordingly. She would then be forced to confess half of her truth and watch Will go down a pitiful spiral as the guilt ate what little remained of her _.'You see Will, I simply don't want to be married. Not yet anyways, that's what I'm telling you, so please do not vie for my love. Oh, that ring on my finger that you know that I know that you know was suspicious and certainly still recall? Please disregard that,'_ Elizabeth's mind went on. She couldn't bare to imagine what telling the whole truth would bring about; that not only did she not want to be married, not to him anyways, and that she married a man who would quite happily have him killed. She opened her mouth to speak, but struggled to answer what he asked of her.

Will let out a breath. 'Then we rescue Jack,' the words sounded certain, but uncertainty crossed Will's features.

Elizabeth watched as Will's eyes searched in the distance for something else to say and held her breath, hoping that there was nothing left. When his silence ensued for another moment, his eyes fell to her. The familiar cool whips of panic ran up her body and she tensed. Her skin prickled at the nape of her neck and all at once she felt her breath quicken and slow. Unable to cope with the ritual pangs of severe discomfort, she pounced from the crate and stalked away into the bow of the ship, to the safety of company where Will would not follow.

Or so she thought.

Just as Elizabeth came to pass Mister Gibbs attending to his canteen of rum., Will rushed passed towards Barbossa who stood at the helm. 'Barbossa, ahead!'

'Aye,' Barbossa nodded enthusiastically. 'We're good 'n lost now.'

Elizabeth pulled her brow together in confusion. ' _Lost?_ ' she questioned shrilly.

Barbossa turned to her with his grip tight on the wheel and smiled. 'For certain you have to be lost to find the places that can't be found. . . else ways everyone would know where it was!' His words were lighthearted, as if being lost in a lifeless land was no more of an annoyance than venturing down the wrong street.

Mister Gibbs rushed to the railing and looked over the edge. 'We're gaining speed!'

With a short nod to the crew, Will took it upon himself to lead. 'To stations,' he demanded. With that the crew scrambled to their feet and rushed across the decks, bumping into each other and tripping over sleeping men. 'All hands to stations!'

Elizabeth rushed to the bow of the ship and searched for a task needing done. She spotted one of Sao Feng's men arising from the lower decks through the hatch and held out her hand. 'Is anyone down there?'

'Tā shì kōng de,' the man responded with a shake of his head as he used her to pull himself out.

Taking the answer as an all clear, she battened down the hatch and moved through the small group that stood at the bow.

'Rudder full!' Will shouted to one of the many confused men frantically scaling the mast. 'Hard a port, gather way!'

'Nay! Belay that!' came the barking of Barbossa as he stood proud upon the railing of the ship, his balance aided by his grip on the shrouds. 'Let her run straight and true!'

When the crowd parted, Elizabeth saw before her a coming doom. The mists of a waterfall, speeding closer by the passing second. It's powerful roar grew louder.

'Blimey,' Ragetti breathed.

Elizabeth felt that she would be sick any moment, but instead she turned to Barbossa. 'You've doomed us all,' her voice was full of wrath as she stepped to him.

'Don't be so unkind,' Barbossa smiled. 'You may not survive to pass this way again-' he reached out and took her face between his fingers in thumb, which Elizabeth recoiled to- 'and these be the last friendly words you'll hear.'

When she pulled away, her eyes wondered back to the coming waterfall. There wasn't a chance that she was going to go down so easily. Her feet took her across the deck. 'Hard to port!'

The one who obeyed her command was Will, who pulled hard to change the direction that the sails took them and soon the ship was turning. But it was too late. Just as the ship made its way to turn back, the rushing water was louder than ever. The bow began to raise into the night air.

'Hold on!'

Elizabeth rushed to the side of the ship and took hold of a hanging rope. Just as she did her feet were dangling and men began sliding across the deck, their hands reaching out to take hold of something solid. Screams became louder than the water. The wooden ship moaned in pain as it for only a second hung over the waters edge. Elizabeth swore that for a moment she could hear singing, perhaps that of those taken by these waters. She thought to say a prayer before joining the voices, but knew that she had been long ago forgotten by any god. Instead she replaced her pleas to the heavens with thoughts of her husband. The day when she first knew his name, as she stood in her airy chambers wondering what it was that lead her to marry Will, she admired the poisonous flowers sent by a strange man who would arrest her only hours later. The man who she meant to use, but somehow, despite all that she said, found herself undone by. Memories of their short time spent together swirled in her head. In the final second that she had, Elizabeth looked down to see the endless waterfall that lead to the watery abyss that was Davy Jones' Locker. She closed her eyes and screamed as she and the ship plummeted to their doom.


	17. The Fortune of Jack Sparrow

'The armada arrives in a fortnight,' Commodore Groves informed. 'One hundred and forty ships, due to make port near Morant Bay and await orders there. In the morning the Dauntless is due to arrive and return Governor Swann to Port Royal.'

'Anything else?'

'No sir.'

Lord Beckett waved his hand, wordlessly dismissing Commodore Groves from the charting room. With a short nod, the commodore turned on the heel of his boot and retired through the French doors. For the first time in months he felt that he had been left alone. Not only by people, but by the taxing duties that he was responsible to attend to daily. For a moment, everything would be calm, so unlike the past week. Davy Jones and his crew, hellbent on obstructing any attempt to gain information on the Brethren Court, were for now, but surely not for long, quelled. The heart of Davy Jones was aboard the Dutchman and the Kraken dead, the latter which Lord Beckett wished he would have demanded sooner. For months he had tip toed around Jones for fear that the sadist man, if one could call him that, would set his beast on Elizabeth as retaliation. And then there was Governor Swann, who would be against his will sent back to the safety of Port Royal and therefore unable to relentlessly question about the fate of his daughter. Lord Beckett gave it a day before chaos broke out once more.

Though he did find being alone rather tedious. Perhaps it was for this that a small part of him willed for chaos to erupt. For when he found himself alone, especially in the few months past, he found himself engaging in the same torture over and over again. It started with the boredom. The boredom led him to drum his fingers on the smooth mahogany desk and then fidget with whatever littered the desk that day. It only took but a few moments and with a tired sigh, he would succumb to the urge that he knew would only sting his cold heart. Ritually, Lord Beckett would reach into one of the many drawers of the mahogany desk and out he would pull Jack's enchanted compass. The needle only ever moved when he did, signaling that Elizabeth was far in the distance. He should have put it away, rather than torture himself so. It was like staring at a clock- the more you stare, the slower time gets. But as usual, he would not put the compass away. Instead he would sit it on the desk and wait for it to move. It wouldn't move, so he would toss it back into the drawer and wish that he had never asked Mercer to retrieve it.

That night would be different.

The enchanted compass sat in the centre of the desk, it's needle still as the dead, but only for a moment. Just as Lord Beckett reached to return it to the drawer it's needle began to spin. His brow pulled together as he watched it spin, so quickly that it was only a blur. There was something unsettling about the sudden change; a chill went down his spine. He took the compass in hand and snapped it shut- he could still hear it spinning inside and so threw it into the open drawer. It didn't stop, but the eerie sound was muffled.

The air was electric, like the moments before a lightening storm. Lord Beckett rubbed his neck in discomfort as his eyes scanned the room which suddenly seemed so sinister. It felt as though he was not so alone as he was moments before; like at any moment, a figure would appear from one of the dark corners. The corner to his left, just behind the desk on the opposite side of the room, the corner where the golden glow of the few candles still lit scarcely reached. It was the darkest part of the room and he could not pry his eyes from it.

'Elizabeth?' he didn't know why the name slipped past his lips, but it brought chills across his skin. For there would be no response from her. Not really her, anyways.

The candle on the desk before him went out, almost as if an ominous reply. Or perhaps it was a distraction, meant to pull his eyes away from the black corner so what lurked there could step into the light. He held his breath as his heart pounded against his chest loudly. It was panic inducing- between his heartbeat and the distressing sound of the compass needle spinning, nothing else in the room could be heard. He felt that if the two were silent he would surely hear movement in the corner. And there was movement in the corner- slowly, the dark mass' edge wavered. Someone, or something, was parting with the shadow that concealed them. It came closer, with one step, when-

A disruption. The French doors flew open, revealing an alarmed Governor Swann. 'Elizabeth?'

Lord Beckett was for once thankful for frantic company bursting in unannounced. The shadow had fled. 'No,' was all he could utter as stood with his hand over his chest.

'I thought. . .' Governor Swann's forehead wrinkled. 'I thought that I heard her scream.'

* * *

Elizabeth's hands sunk into the warm wet sand of a beach. Before relief could over take her senses, one violent contraction in her throat sent the contents of her stomach onto the white sand. It was nothing more than sea water and the pungent taste of bile. Another wave came and washed the sick away as she stood. Her whole body trembled as if high on a foreign physic, shaken by the fall that she had anticipated to be her death. As she glanced around the beach, littered with pieces of their doomed ship, she saw the rest of the crew washing ashore just as she had. One by one they gasped for air and gagged on sea water.

'This truly is a godforsaken place,' Mister Gibbs remarked after he caught his breath.

This new place was strange. It was an endless beach. There were no trees, no sounds, just like the strange empty ocean that they had just come from. Only rising and falling dunes of sand. Elizabeth squinted, the sunlight on the white sand made it hard to see. But there was simply nothing to see. 'I don't see Jack,' her voice trembled, not yet recovered from vomiting. 'I don't see anyone.'

A dripping wet Barbossa stood to his feet. 'He's here. Davy Jones never once gave up that what he took.'

'And does it matter?' Will growled with his hand on his heaving chest. 'We're trapped here by your doing, no different than Jack-'

'Witty Jack. . . is closer den you tink,' Tia Dalma's words cut Will's arguments short.

On cue, just as the all knowing woman had said, a strange shape emerged in the distance, over the highest of the sand dunes. It was the mast of a ship with black sails. Elizabeth's brow wrinkled in disbelief at what she was seeing, and she was joined by the others, all staring with various looks of confusion plastered on their features. The Black Pearl was gaining speed, racing up the dune and then diving gracefully, as if weightless, across the beach and towards the ocean. Jack Sparrow stood proudly on it's riggings, only visible for the brief time that the ship was so near. It hit the salty waters with a great splash and continued on.

'Slap me thrice and hand me to my mama,' Mister Gibbs remarked with a smile. 'It's Jack.' With a newfound spring in his step, he hopped onto a crate and waved his arms.

Elizabeth couldn't help but smile and follow suit, but only took a single step before that smile fell. Once more her tormented mind reminded her why it was that they had risked their lives and now stood in Davy Jones' Locker. It reminded her of that grim afternoon when she bound Jack to the fatally wounded Pearl. _'I'm not sorry,'_ the words haunted her mind for months after the incident before fading into memory, but all at once they had resurfaced. Elizabeth thought now of how quiet Jack was when she had damned him to his watery grave- how he could have simply shouted for the crew to come to his rescue, but had not. Had he faced death to spare her the accusations? Or had he too realized that she was right, and that the kraken would kill him anyways? And what would he remember? She shackling him to the mast no doubt, but would he remember their conversations beyond the grave. Would he know about Cutler? _'No,'_ Elizabeth thought. _'It was imagined, and therefore his forgiveness was too.'_ Either way, she felt that Jack would not be quiet now.

With the single step that she had taken, she felt the burning eyes of Will, ever wondering what it was that pulled them apart. Her own eyes went to the sand beneath her boots as she crossed her arms over her chest, drawing into herself.

'Do you think he's leaving us?' Ragetti asked.

Mister Gibbs shook his head enthusiastically. 'Nay, the Pearl can be crewed by six at the very least, but for the journey we face he wouldn't risk it.'

Elizabeth backed into the crowd as she saw one of the four long boats on the Pearls deck lowering into the water. Cold sweat glistened on her worried brow. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists tightly, letting her dirty nails dig into the palms of her hands. To her dismay the minutes felt like seconds, and soon she heard the familiar sound of oars against water. Her teeth bit into her swollen bottom lip hard.

'It's the captain!' Pintel exclaimed.

The crowd of her crew members raced towards the shore, leaving Elizabeth exposed. She came forward with them, staring at the ground, terrified to see Jack and for him to see her.

'A sight for sore eyes!' Mister Gibbs shouted, 'Jack!'

'Mister Gibbs!' came Jack's equally enthused response.

'Aye, cap'n-'

'I thought so,' Jack cut his words short. 'I expect you're able to account for your actions, then.'

'Sir?'

Elizabeth ambled through the crowd and eventually found a fine spot to hide, amongst Sao Feng's men in the back.

'There's been a perpetual and virulent lack of discipline upon my vessel, _why?_ ' Jack spat out angerly. _'Why is that, sir?'_

'Sir you're. . .' Mister Gibbs lowered his voice. 'You're in Davy Jones' Locker, cap'n.'

'I know that. I know where I am!' Jack loudly announced as the crew gave one another sideways glances. 'And _don't_ think I don't!'

Barbossa stepped forward. 'Jack Sparrow. . .'

'Ah, Hector,' Jack was once more cheery. Elizabeth could hear him coming closer as she stared at the stitching on Tai Huang's tunic, unable to look up. 'It's been too long. Hasn't it?'

'Aye,' Barbossa agreed with a hint of malice in his voice. 'Isla de Muerta, remember? You shot me.'

'No I didn't- Tia Dalma! Out and about, eh?' Jack had moved on, his footsteps coming closer. 'You add an agreeable sense of macabre to any delirium.'

Just two feet away from where she stood, Will spoke. 'He thinks we're a hallucination.'

'William, tell me something. Have you come because you need my help to save a certain distressing damsel- or rather, damsel in distress?' Jack questioned. 'Either one.'  
Elizabeth could feel her neck burning as she heard Jack's voice speaking about her, imagining his arms flying about as he spoke.

'No.'

'Well then, you wouldn't be here, would you? So you can't be here,' he concluded. 'Q.E.D., you're _not_ really here.'

With a final breath through her lips, and quashing any desire to vomit again, Elizabeth parted the crowd as she came forward. 'Jack,' she called, hardly able to force her eyes to the man she addressed. But she did, and felt her throat tighten as a result. He hardly looked different to the man who had haunted her in the time after his death, but there was indeed something different. It was in the way his face froze, just for a second, as he laid his eyes his killer. Elizabeth tensed her jaw and forced her watering eyes to hold their gaze on him. 'This is real, we're here.'

Jack seemed at a loss for words. Rage lingered somewhere in his eyes, only noticed by Elizabeth. He took a short breath in, readying to speak. Elizabeth held her breath, readying for all around her to know her deceit. His finger raised, as it did so often when he spoke, but not a word passed his lip which twitched as he thought. Just as she thought he was ready to proclaim her treachery, he turned and careened back towards Mister Gibbs.

'The locker, you say?' he whispered frantically.

Elizabeth feared that it was too late, that perhaps Jack would have realized what had happened in the fullest extent, and that she would be left behind to rot in the locker. She rushed forward and gave her first line of defense, 'We've come to rescue you.'

Jack spun and paced towards her. 'Have you now? That's very _kind_ of you.' his voice dripped with sarcasm. 'But it would seem that as _I_ possess a ship and you _don't_ -' he swept the crowd of those he disliked most with a pointed finger- ' _you're_ the ones in need of rescuing. . . and I'm not sure if I'm in the _mood_.'

'I see _my_ ship-' Barbossa cut in, gesturing at the Black Pearl- 'right there.'

In a lethargic and unenthused manner, Jack stepped passed Barbossa and put his hand over his brow to block out the sun. A mockery only meant to prod at the old captain. 'Can't spot it. Must be a tiny little thing hiding somewhere behind the Pearl.'

'Jack,' Will snapped as he strode towards Jack. 'Cutler Beckett has the heart of Davy Jones. He controls the Flying Dutchman.'

Elizabeth joined Will in an attempt to seem on their side. 'He's taking over the sea,' the words sounded unconvincing. She squeezed her eyes shut at the failed attempted.

'The song 'as already been sung,' Tia Dalma said more convincingly. 'De Brethren Court is called.'

Jack let out an irritated sigh. 'Leave you people alone for just a minute- look what happens. Everything's gone to pot.'

'Aye,' Mister Gibbs agreed. 'The world needs you back something fierce.'

'And you need a crew.'

Jack turned with his lip held tight. 'Why should I sail with any of you? Four of you have tried to kill me- one of you succeeded.'

The colour drained from Elizabeth's face. All eyes drifted her way, silently questioning her and waiting for a response. Her jaw fell, willing her to make a case for her defense, but words wouldn't form in her mind. It was all she could do not to be sick once more.

'Oh. . .' Jack began, ambling towards her with a smile. 'She's not told you. You'll have loads to talk about while you're here.' With still no change in Elizabeth's demeanor, he came to face Tia Dalma. 'As for you-'

'Now-' Tia Dalma smiled and used her honeyed voice to thwart whatever it might be that Jack might ask. 'Don't tell me you didn' enjoy it at de time.'

'Fair enough,' Jack quickly decided. 'All right, you're in.' He moved down the line. 'Don't need you, you scare me. Gibbs you can come, and Marty.' A sound of disapproval came from his throat when he passed Pintel. 'Cotton- Cottons parrot, I'm a little iffy, but at least I'll have someone to talk to.' Finally he faced Sao Feng's men. 'Who are you?'

'Tai Huang. These are my men.'

'Where do your allegiances lie?'

'With the highest bidder,' Tai put simply.

'I have a ship,' Jack offered.

'That makes you the highest bidder.'

'Good man-' he turned to the crew that he had selected. 'Weigh anchor, all hands. Prepare to make sail.' From his waist he pulled a compass which could point north, but it only spun, unable to detect direction in the world that was not it's own.

'Jack. . .' Barbossa drew menacingly. He ran his fingers on Sao Feng's charts, the sole providers of a way out of the endless sea of dead. 'Which way you goin' Jack?'

* * *

It had been a day since the Black Pearl and its crew departed from the desolate beach in Davy Jones' Locker. There had been whispers- speculations of how Elizabeth had killed Jack and why. Whispers and side-eye glances, ever questioning who the person they had sailed with for so long really was. What else could she be hiding? And so Elizabeth had spent the day below deck, unable to cope with the boundless amount of unwanted attention.

'If I hadn't left him, the Kraken would have killed us all!' she wanted to scream this most of all to her scrutinizers. 'Damned to the locker along with Jack, with not a soul in the world with designs on saving us.'

Elizabeth rubbed her temples and shifted positions. The damp stairs that led to the gun deck where she sat did no good for her aching bones. Her mind was clouded with scenarios of what she wanted to say and the responses to it. All that would never happen. She was so deep in thought, that she hadn't realized when someone came near. It was Will, and she only noticed him when he stood an arms length away.

'You left Jack to the Kraken.'

Unable to look at him, Elizabeth let her eyes stare at her own knees as she uncomfortably picked at the hem of her sleeve. 'He's rescued now, it's done with.'  
Will turned away, giving her the chance to glance at him without having to look him in the eye. He shook his head in disbelief and Elizabeth felt compelled to defend herself for the first time.

'Will I had no choice,' she began, not knowing where she would go next. Her nerves forced her to stand from the stairs.

'You chose not to tell me.'

'I couldn't,' Elizabeth let a breath out. Was that all she could say to Will? Yes, her reasoning was valid, they would have all died if not for her. . . but what would be her excuse for not mentioning this to the man that was her fiancé? Who thought that at the very moment he still was her fiancé? She couldn't think of a reason why she hadn't, only that she was in love with another and speaking to Will, let alone sharing a dark secret, would have fueled the flame in his heart which was the opposite of what she wanted. 'It wasn't your burden to bare,' was all that she could think to say.

'But I did bare it, didn't I?' Will stepped closer to her, sending her rigid. 'I just didn't know what it was. I thought. . .'

It only took a second for Elizabeth to deduce what it was that Will had bared. 'You thought I loved him. . .' she speculated out loud, only after saying this that the worlds were a mistake. Will thought that she had loved Jack, but now she had corrected his woeful mind. And so he would think their love story resumed. There was only two things left to do; tell Will the truth or flee.

Elizabeth chose the latter, but Will curbed the easy escape and backed her into one of the many support beams. She held her frame tight, angered that he felt he had such a right to touch her, but knowing that she could scarcely argue it without alluding to her marriage to Cutler. Her blazing eyes stared right into his, the animosity careering though her veins suddenly overpowering her fear to look into them.

'If you make these choices alone. . . how can I trust you?'

'You can't,' Elizabeth bit out in a whisper. It hadn't been the confession that he deserved, but she felt it enough that he should understand. He couldn't trust her and she had made him aware of it. Whether he would trust her again or not would be a mistake made on his part alone. With one final glare, she pushed past his arm that blocked her way and stalked up the stairs.

When Elizabeth arose into the fresh air on the decks that she had been so quick to flee, she took a deep breath in. The moment between she and Will had seemed to light a fire under her. She was tired of being the girl who hid away- the girl who she had broken away from so long ago, but seemed to retreat to when all didn't go well. What had happened to the girl who seduced the man who arrested her? The girl who ruthlessly lied and schemed, stole the heart of Davy Jones from the most notorious pirate on the seas? And then killed that pirate for his trespasses against her? She wasn't sure when exactly that girl had taken refuge within her, but she was ready to bring her out once more.

 **WRITERS NOTE**

I couldn't bring myself to kill off Weatherby. I thought about having Jones do it instead of Mercer, but I just couldn't do it. The movies did Weatherby dirty for a one liner to move the plot forward by a hair and I am not having it. Weatherby is going to go live his life out in Port Royal like he deserves.


	18. The Flash of Green

The gnawing emptiness in the pit of Elizabeth's stomach was easy to grow accustomed to. It was an irritant that went hand in hand with life at sea and she experienced it often enough that it was hardly bothersome. But the need for water wasn't so easily quashed. As the hot days rolled into each other her burning thirst grew steadily stronger. It was an ache in the back of her throat that wouldn't go away and refused to be ignored. It took all the willpower she possessed not to find herself in the cargo hold, where she knew that Barbossa had hidden the last bottle of rum. She imagined that the warm liquid would feel near orgasmic as it washed over her dry tongue and ran down her parched throat. But the bliss would only last a moment before her body would once more, and much more desperately, reel for Adam's ale.

Elizabeth used the back of her hand to wipe away the drops of dew that had gathered on her sun kissed skin.

It had been six days since they left the locker. Tia Dalma's promise echoed through Elizabeth's mind day and night. A week and they would be back in the world of the living, or else not at all. The idea of dying in the endless sea of dead had become more conceivable with each passing hour.

 _'One more day and you'll be back,'_ she told herself over and over that day.

With a defeated sigh, Elizabeth rested her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. Her tired eyes went from Jack who's turn it was to try and break the code that was Sao Feng's charts, and then to the sunset, which threated to bring the final night to head. It would be her turn next to attempt to solve the mystery and so she occupied her mind with theories. The flash of green- everyone agreed that it signaled when a soul returned to the mortal world, but it was how one managed that which stumped them all. The day before she had fleshed out her best theory yet, and despite the crews current weariness of her character, it seemed that most were willing to agree.

'Pintel, you once told Will how it was that Bill Turner was sent to the locker,' she had clarified to Pintel, who stood as one of the many in a circle on the main deck. 'Barbossa-'

'-strapped a cannon to Bootstraps boot straps,' Barbossa had finished her sentence proudly, with a quick glare at William who stared at him with slit eyes.

Elizabeth had nodded. 'And sent him down to the abyss that is Davy Jones' Locker- perhaps a metaphor at the time, but we know now it is real and that Bill did in fact meet Jones himself and become a crewmember of the Flying Dutchman.'

'We know all this,' Jack had sighed, lazily toying with his telescope.

'And so we know that the locker is at the bottom of the ocean,' Elizabeth continued. 'We fell far down the falls at worlds end and since have not returned from whence we came from, so far above- we're in the locker, so are we not still at the bottom of the ocean?'

'Aye. . .' Mister Gibbs had agreed, with several others nodding with him. 'But how do we resurface as it were?'

'The flash of green. . .' Elizabeth had paced in thought, before pointing at Mister Gibbs. 'You said that the flash of green comes at sunset. . . or perhaps sunrise. So whatever it is, might it only be possible-' she stopped her foot in a sudden realization. 'Yes! If we are at the bottom of the ocean, then the sunset is sunrise and the sunrise is the sunset, so- wait, no-'

That had been last of Elizabeth's brilliant theorizing. She had no idea how it could be done and was equally perplexed by the charts that would give them that answer. All that she knew was that it had to be solved soon, within the next day or two at most, before they all withered away in the sun, their thoughts too jarred by the lack of food and water to think logically. The coming sunset could be the last they see.

Elizabeth ran her fingers through her hair and watched as Jack fiddled with the strange charts.

'Not sunset. . .' he mused, turning the wheels of the chart once more. 'Sun down, and rise. . . _up_!'

Jack Sparrow stood so suddenly and with such ferocity from his previous lethargic state that Elizabeth flinched.

'What's that!?' he shouted frantically, careening to the port side of the ship. 'What _is_ that?'

Mister Gibbs and Will trailed after him. 'Where?'

'There!' Jack peered into the water for just a second before he gasped and ran to the starboard side, gathering a larger crowd keen to see what the captain had spotted.

With her dark brow pulled together, Elizabeth watched the group go from starboard to port and back again. Her mind was too clouded by dehydration to deduce what exactly Jack was up to. Was he hallucinating? Elizabeth knew it was likely that it was only the rambling of a mad man. But what if it wasn't? Curiosity took hold of her, and she found herself joining the small group looking into the blue waters on the starboard side.

Her eyes searched, but could only see the sea. 'What is it?'

Jack once more ran to the port side. Elizabeth and the others followed suit. As their bodies heaved against the railing of the port side, and then back to the starboard, the ship lurched with their movements and she finally realized. _'Sun down, and rise up,'_ just as Jack had said. They were at the bottom of the ocean, sailing upside down, and below was the world above. Sunset would be sunrise in the mortal world, and they had to be right side up when it happened.

'We're rocking the ship!' Mister Gibbs confirmed.

The ship rocked further as more crew members joined in and when the cargo was unstowed, its hull vibrated with the amount of iron that roamed the lower decks freely. Soon the ship began tilting enough that it became difficult to run up and take hold of the railing. It would fall and again the group would run to the opposite end. When the keel and rudder lifted out of the water, it was clear that they had managed it. Elizabeth held tight to the wooden railing and hung with her fellow crew members from the starboard side.

A few men down, one of Sao Feng's men let out a bellow as his fingers slipped. Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder and caught sight of the helpless man landing on the ratlines, just before a cannon crushed him in place. She looked away just in time, but was able to hear the sound of crushing bones just as the cannon hit. Her mind wasn't able to linger on the horrible sound long, as the ship tilted further, its topsails first hitting the water.

Elizabeth held her breath as she went under and felt the weight of her own body lifted from her shaking arms. The groaning of the Pearl rung in her ears as the ocean water rushed in every crevice of her hull. Salt water burned her eyes, but Elizabeth couldn't help admiring the strange sight of a ship underwater. How weightless it seemed, rather like the first time she set eyes on it on the journey to Jamaica, when the dead ruled it's decks. It was ghostly. She looked down, or up, at her feet to see the glassy top of the ocean. It came closer and closer until it broke over the very top of the ship. What happened next came in a blur. Elizabeth felt her body slammed like a ragdoll into the hard wood of the main deck. The force of the fall left her gasping for air that she felt her lungs refused to breathe in. After a moment of panicked heaving, the wind finally returned to her body and she climbed to her feet.

The first of the mortal world that she set her eyes upon was the golden ball of fire as it peeked over the oceans edge. As it touched the sky of blues, it bled hues of amber and pink in a glorious ring. The sea was calm, the only indication that it was alive at all were the winding tides, intertwining as they reached out to the horizon where the ethereal light rose. Seagulls cawed in the distance, in search of a morning meal of fish for their young and a wet ocean breeze graced her skin. Elizabeth had to bite her cheek not to cry.

'It's the sunrise,' was all she could manage to say.

However, the peaceful moment would not last long. Barbossa turned and gave her a passing glance. Elizabeth was ashamed to say that she now knew the man well enough to know exactly what he meant. They had made it back to the mortal world, but their troubles were really only just beginning. And so the negotiating would begin; or rather, what Barbossa would consider negotiating; he pointed one pistol at Jack and the other at Will. Elizabeth followed suit and aimed at Jack and Barbossa; the latter was a sham, as they had agreed long ago that the others mustn't know of their comradery. Will set his sights to match Elizabeth's, while Jack pointed at the latter. Elizabeth warned Jack with a seething look, but understood that if he were to shoot anyone, it would be her.

'All right, then,' Barbossa began, 'The Brethren Court is a-gathering at Shipwreck Cove. And Jack, you and I are a-going. There'll be no arguing that point.'

'I _is_ arguing that point,' Jack argued. 'If there's pirates a-gathering, I'm pointing my ship the other way.'

Elizabeth knew well what needed to happen; she had ran it through her head time and time again. Together she and Barbossa needed for Jack to attend the Brethren Court to release Calypso and assist them in gathering the pirates in a fight with their enemy. Barbossa so that he may be debtless to Tia Dalma for his resurrection, and Elizabeth to find she and her husband out of whatever grave they have dug themselves. They needed the goddess freed and the pirates rounded up for a losing fight, which could only be the beginning of her requests. Jack choosing not to attend the court was not an option. The stakes were too high.

Elizabeth brought her gun from Barbossa and pointed it at Jack, who pointed his at her. 'The pirates are gathering to fight Lord Beckett, and you're a pirate.'

'Fight or not, you're not running Jack,' Will warned with his pistols now facing the captain.

'If we don't stand together, they'll hunt us down,' Barbossa declared, 'One by one 'til there be none left, but _you_.'

This declaration was a lie, Elizabeth knew, for the members of the Pearl were already safe from the Company's fatal cannonade. All thanks to her, though she felt that it was a tainted good deed that didn't deserve a thanks.

'Quite like the sound of that. . . Captain Jack Sparrow,' he smirked, 'last pirate.'

Barbossa stepped forward and held his pistol just inches away from Jacks nose. 'Aye, and you'll be fightin' Jones alone. How does that figure into your plan?'

'I'm still working on that. . . but I will not be going back to the Locker-' Jack raised his pistol to the centre of Barbossa's forehead- 'you can count on that.'

Jack pulled the trigger and the whole circle of gun wielding pirates flinched. But nothing happened, save for the droplets of sea water that spit pathetically from the guns barrel. Elizabeth, half hoping that her powder wasn't wet, pulled the triggers of her two pistols several times over, only to here disappointing clicks. Jack tried his on her and Will tried to shoot Jack.

'Wet powder,' Mister Gibbs tutted lightly with his lip held tight and a small shake of his head, as if they hadn't all just failed at blowing one another's brains out.

And so relative normality once more resumed.

'There's a fresh water spring on this island,' Will pointed at the charts that he had laid across the table, as everyone stood around. 'We can resupply there and get back to shooting each other later.'

'You lead the shore party,' Jack side eyed Barbossa. 'I'll stay with _my_ ship.'

Barbossa gave the same look back. 'I'll not be leaving _my_ ship in _your_ command.'

Will let out a sigh. 'Why don't you both go ashore and leave the ship in _my_ command,' he suggested, but upon the looks of speculation and distrust from the two captains, added, 'Temporarily.'

* * *

Hidden behind the island with the fresh water spring that they spoke of, just moments before the sun would rise The Endeavor laid waiting for the return of the Black Pearl. The morning hummed on just like any other. Lord Beckett stood in the chart room, lethargically leaned against the war table, plotting moves and counter moves against the miniature ships that represented the very real armada that now lay dormant off the coast of Jamaica. Occasionally he shifted his eyes to the ever spinning compass, which remained opened on the corner of that table, and wondered when it would stop.

'The Empress awaits nearby,' Mister Mercer informed Lord Beckett as he tossed an apple in the air. 'Sao Feng's understanding of the situation remains unchanged. Turner will be in charge of the Pearl by the time the Empress takes her. Feng has promised the boy the ship to free his father, but has no intention of keeping that promise. He instead intends to remain on our side, with the Pearl under his command and so under ours as well.'

'That won't do,' Lord Beckett drummed his fingers on the table. 'Feng works only for himself. He cannot be trusted. Did he give any indication that his decision on releasing Calypso has changed?'

'No,' Mister Mercer said. 'That is why I told him that by your word the Black Pearl is his. It will be, but rather like his promise to Turner, it shall only be for but a moment. We take the Pearl upon our arrival and so forcing Sao Feng to think like his fellow pirate lord Barbossa. To free her in hopes that she will reward them by taking her vengeance out on the company.'

Lord Beckett let out a sigh and shook his head. 'The Black Pearl is needed by our allies, among which is my wife.'

'Then we allow an escape,' Mister Mercer shrugged his shoulders. 'We know that Jack Sparrow will attempt it no matter the outcome of a negotiation. Our allies aboard the Pearl are still able to gather with the pirate lords and Sao Feng will still be wounded by our betrayal. He'll follow to shipwreck cove. Calypso is released and takes her anger not out on the company, but upon those who bound her in the-'

Mister Mercers words were cut short by a sound, or rather, the lack of one that the frequent occupants of The Endeavors chart rooms had grown used to. The ever spinning compass had come to a sudden halt. The eyes of most in the room wondered to the mysterious compass, all half expecting for it to resume it's now familiar hum. A moment passed in silence. Lord Beckett struggled to think for a moment at what it so obviously meant, until-

The chartroom first turned a shade of green before filling with the first light of day.

'The sunrise,' Commodore Groves said. 'Feng said-'

'The flash of green,' Lord Beckett muttered as he snatched the compass from the table. It was now pointed towards the north east, past the island which they hid behind. Just where the Black Pearl was due to make its first appearance from the world of the dead. He couldn't help the smirk that curled at the corner of his lips. 'They're back.'

* * *

'Get your hands off of me,' Elizabeth snapped at Tai Huang. 'What is the meaning of this?' The cool clank of the shackles around her wrists sounded, signally no further sense in arguing. 'Where is Will?' To this, Tai Huang only snickered. All at once the Black Pearl had erupted into chaos. Sao Feng's men had taken over swiftly, carrying out the command of someone unknown. Tai Huang pushed Elizabeth into the small gathering of her fellow shackled shipmates. Mister Gibbs caught her only just by the sleeve of her jacket before she tumbled to the deck.

'Miss Elizabeth,' he whispered. 'This be Will's doin'. I heard 'im order a mutiny-'

Elizabeth slit her eyes in confusion. 'What?'

'Aye,' Ragetti whispered in her other ear, agreeing with what Mister Gibbs claimed. 'Saw 'im stalkin' into the captains cabin just before.'

 _'It seems you're not the only traitor aboard your ship, Lady Beckett,'_ the words that Mercer had spoken to Elizabeth in Singapore seemed more relevant than ever. Just as she had before, she suspected that he spoke of Will, and now it seemed this was the ugly head of Wills traitorous ways. Her eyes scanned the ship for any sign of Will. His absence confirmed in her mind that what she and the others suspected was true. She cursed him under her breath.

One of Sao Feng's men waved his arms and shouted words that the crew could not understand. The captures cheered and Elizabeth stood on her toes to see what it was that they celebrated for. A coming ship, one identical to the ship that they had taken over the worlds edge, gifted to them from Feng's fleet, came sailing their way. It wasn't but a handful of moments before the ship was on the port side, and men were crossing the sky blue waters over to the Pearl. One long boat carried Sao Feng, who boarded the Black Pearl, proud of its capture. On a second long boat, the one that came from the Pearl, were the remaining crew members with the weapons of Feng's men aimed at their chests. Barbossa was the first of theses men to shamefully climb to the deck.

'Sao Feng. . .' Barbossa growled as he heaved himself over the Pearls edge. 'You showing up here is truly a remarkable coincidence.'

Sao Feng smiled, but something dark lingered in him. Elizabeth watched as his eyes moved slowly from her, to Barbossa, and then finally to the coward that hid behind the latter. 'Jack Sparrow. . .' he hissed. 'You paid me great insult once.'

Jack emerged from his hiding spot and gave a nervous smile. 'That doesn't sound like me,' was all he could utter before Feng's quick fist met his nose, which cracked loudly. 'Shall we just call it square then?'

Feng's eyes once more filled with fire, but thankfully for Jack, someone interrupted what was going to end in another fist to his face.

'Release her,' Will made himself known once more as he pushed through the crowd of men. 'She's not part of the bargain.'

Elizabeth's brow pulled together. _'Bargain_?' she thought bitterly. Suddenly she was filled with more feelings than she was capable of. She was hurt, angry, and confused; but mostly angry. Her features held tight as she tried not to explode.

'And what bargain be that?' Barbossa asked Will with a scowl.

Feng smiled. 'You heard Captain Turner,' he instructed, 'release her!'

' _Captain_ Turner?'

'Aye, the perfidious rotter led a mutiny against us!' Mister Gibbs let out from somewhere in the group of men.

Tai Huang approached Elizabeth once more and unlocked her shackles. She couldn't resist giving him a seething glare of triumph as he was forced to undo what he had done.

'I need the Pearl to free my father,' Will interjected, 'It's the only reason I came on this voyage.'

Once the heavy shackles were free from her wrists, Elizabeth stepped towards the traitorous man she once called her fiancé. With her eyes slit and mouth open, she almost spoke, but found no good words to use. It was an indescribable betrayal. It wasn't that she herself wasn't actively playing the part of a traitor, she was and she never tried to convince herself that it was anything less. Elizabeth thought back to just the week prior, when he had been so wounded over her deceit, when all the while he had his own lies and schemes. And for what? At least the worst she had done served a purpose; she had saved people and now she could say that she saved Jack too. Even the lie that she found herself wrapped up in wouldn't end in those she knew best dead- matter of fact they would be spared of any harm and she had made sure of it. While he was willing to hand over the very lives she had saved only to free the father that left him in the first place.

'Why didn't you tell me you were planning this?' The words weren't as hardened as her face, but it was all she could think to ask.

Will hardly glanced her way and seemed to favour looking just over her shoulder. There was an air of cool indifference about his features. 'It was my burden to bare.'

The unanticipated retort left a clean cut in Elizabeth's ego. Like a well made dagger it was simple, but it had finished her off quietly, with no need for brute-like confrontation. Though her mind ran rampant with witty remarks, she could not conjure up a single one that was as sharp as his. And as much as it wounded her to admit, it would be plainly hypocritical for her to dare speak out loud on the manners of falsity, knowing that she firmly held the position as the most deceitful of all the pirates present. So instead she let her crude remarks simmer angerly in her skull, clawing at the back of her throat, urging her to speak. She bit her lip hard and took a step back in shame.

' _He_ needs the Pearl. Captain Turner needs the Pearl.' Jack pointed a dirty finger at Will and then at Elizabeth. 'And you felt guilty. . . and you with your Brethren Court. Did no one come to save me just because they missed me?'

For an uncomfortable moment of silence, Elizabeth, Barbossa, and Tia Dalma all gave one another knowing glances. No, they hadn't saved him because they missed him. They had saved him only to meet their own ends which intertwined more often than not. Not even Mister Gibbs made a sound of protest to the claim, which surprised Elizabeth most; she wondered what it was that the otherwise wholesome man sought out by saving the captain. Or perhaps it was just that he was more clever than taking up a troth so openly to a man under fire. Just before Jack's tight smile uttered an insult to those most quiet, Marty raised his hand. Pintel, Ragetti, Cotton, and Jack the Monkey followed suit.

'I'm standing over there with them,' he quipped.

Before Jack could amble over to his waning number of loyal crew members, Sao Feng took hold of his shoulder. 'I'm sorry Jack,' his voice was anything but apologetic. 'But there is an old friend who wants to see you first.'

'I'm not sure I can quite survive anymore visits from old friends,' he admitted with a nervous smile.

Sao Feng pulled the captain by the sleeve of his lawnshirt through the parting crowd of his men. 'Here is your chance to find out.'

Elizabeth was quick on their heels to see what it was that the men all taller than she now set their eyes upon. Unconcerned by the fierceness of Sao Feng's armoured men, or rather too vexed to care, she pushed past them and came to stand by Jack's side. A menacing man of war approached with a large English flag beating in the wind above it. Elizabeth couldn't help but let unjust happiness wash over her and had to hold a hand over her mouth to conceal a smile that formed there. She held her breath. Her free hand instinctively went to the enchanted compass on her waist to check if her elated state was all for naught, but alas, it was gone, just as it had been since Singapore.

'Oh. . .' Jack's worried voice interrupted her steady gaze. 'Would it be such a trouble to ask who might that old friend be?' The uneasiness about his features said that he already knew the answer to that question.

Sao Feng gave a twisted smile, happy to pass on bad news to the captain who once wronged him. 'Lord Cutler Beckett.'

 **Writers Notes!**

Thanks for reading! It means a lot.

I'm so happy I have actually had time to update so now I'm on a roll. I'll probably write the next chapter tomorrow or start it tonight so it should be out this week. I'm excited to write what will be the next part to this story. I have a general idea of what I want to happen in that, but it is lacking any detail at all. It's mostly just a beginning, a middle, and an end. It will probably be a piece where I just write and upload and we'll just see where it goes. I'm trying so hard not to just start writing little pieces of it when I'm bored, because when I do that for other things that I write I end up with a ton of little plotless pieces that I end up really loving, but can't connect the lines between each to make a decent story. But we're kind of coming to an end, I'm not sure how many chapters this will have now but it won't be many, so the next part we'll be coming soon. Like I said when I first started this, I wanted to write this fic going along with the movies half because I have never written fanfic before and half just for fun, but I am much better suited at writing with no script to keep to and have intended on the second part since I wrote the first chapter.

I don't really know where I'm going with my blabbing so I'll stop. Next chapter will be out soon and the new part will be coming immediately after the last chapter.

Oh and a couple of days ago I wrote the first chapter to a fic that I've been considering writing and I don't know whether to post it or not. It takes place in the forties in the Harry Potter universe, kind of tied to the main story, but only by a couple of characters and the main is OC. I feel like it's going to be fairly dark. Idk even if one person wants to read it I'll probably post it.


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